Seeing Through Walls
by Emory Lee
Summary: A simple case of lost and found turns into a trip of discovery and survival for Harry and Snape. HP/SS
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to Rowling, no profit being made, just for fun._

_A/N: Like Puzzle Pieces, Seeing Through Walls is another of my many fics that I'm getting back to finishing. To my brave betas Rory and Skuf, many, many thanks. _

**Finding Trouble**

"Oh, wow," Harry whispered, his eyes riveted to the sight before him. He was rapidly falling in love; she was perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Taking a deep breath, he dared to take a step closer, nearly touching the barrier that separated them. His fingers longed to reach out and stroke her, to hold her close and see just how she'd react when he-

"If you get any closer, you're going to kiss the glass."

Harry spun away from the display window of Quality Quidditch Supplies to see the grinning face of Ron Weasley. "Ron! That's not funny," he said, trying to hide his embarrassment at being caught drooling over the latest model racing broom.

"It is too," Ron countered. "The look on your face-," he laughed.

Pretending to be hurt, Harry tried not to smile but quickly gave in with a slight roll of his eyes. Though only seventeen, he understood better than most the power of happy times. He'd never begrudge Ron his fun, even if it was at his expense.

Besides, Harry would get even later.

Turning back to the window, Harry went back to staring at the Infinity. She really was a beauty; polished and shined, just begging to be taken for a flight. Lost in his own imaginings, he was barely aware that Ron had laughed himself out and was pressed up against the glass beside him, also staring at the broom. And neither one of them noticed the person heading towards them, looking both angry and relieved.

"There you are," Hermione said, stepping up beside them, her hands full with bags brimming with books. "I figured you'd both be staring at Quidditch brooms instead of getting your school supplies like you promised."

"Oh come on, Hermione," Ron said, reluctantly turning away from the window. "It's not like we don't have the time. School doesn't start for a whole week."

Hermione arched an eyebrow, her eyes glittering with a dangerous spark. "And if I recall, that was the purpose of coming here today. To get everything so we don't have to fight through the back to school crowd and can spend the rest of the week hanging out." She pulled a list out of one of her bags. "I still need to get some new robes. What do you guys have left to do?"

Ron's eyes lit up. "I need new robes too," he said, pointing at his own robes, which were a couple of inches too short. He'd gone through a major growth spurt during the summer, gaining inches that were quickly filling out with muscle earned from hours of Quidditch practice. He'd also taken to following Hermione around like a lovesick puppy, something Harry found absolutely hilarious, as Hermione was oblivious to the fact that she'd picked up an admirer. When they had met up at the Weasleys' to spend the rest of the summer break together, Harry had noticed Ron's odd behavior, and at first, had been confused by Ron's frequent stammering and blushing. Then Harry had caught Ron raptly watching Hermione as she played wizard's chess with Ginny and things quickly clicked into place. With a grin, he'd silently wished Ron good luck, as Hermione was…well, Hermione. A force of nature unto herself.

Focusing his attention back onto present matters, Harry pulled his own list out and groaned. "I've still got to pick up supplies at the Apothecary." He hated the Apothecary; it smelled bad and reminded him of Snape's class, a torture he tried to avoid thinking about while on break.

Hermione ignored Harry's sour face and nodded her head, coming to a decision. "If we still want to go to Florean's for ice cream before we have to meet with Mrs. Weasley, I suggest we split up so we can get everything done. We can meet up at Florean's at, let's say, 11:30?"

Nodding reluctantly, Harry agreed to the plan. He could face the Apothecary by himself, after all. They split up and Harry tried not to laugh at the silly grin on Ron's face as he walked beside Hermione, carrying some of her books.

Harry cast one last longing look at the Infinity and set off for the Apothecary, randomly humming phrases from various muggle songs. Some of the passing witches and wizards frowned at him, either in puzzlement over the strange music or disapproval over the "Boy Who Lived" humming something so mugglish. He dealt with each disapproving look by singing a line or two out loud, feeling completely rebellious.

Lost in his music, Harry almost walked by the Apothecary, but the smell of rotten eggs and shrivelfig drifting out of an open window brought him back to earth.

He headed for the shop door and mindlessly glanced through one of the display windows, only to stop with a jolt. Snape was standing by the sales counter, quietly talking with the owner as he slipped wrapped purchases into a black leather bag hanging off his shoulder.

Harry moaned and ducked down beside a display cart in front of the stop. The last thing he needed was a run in with Snape. He'd never hear the end of it if he managed to lose points from Gryffindor before the school year even started. Snape took away points if Harry so much as breathed in his presence.

Hunkering further down beside the cart, Harry decided that he'd just have to wait until Snape left. He amused himself with watching a thin hangman's vine that was slowly edging its way over the side of the cart. Harmless and easily breakable in its natural state, the pink-colored vine was attracted to heat and liked to wrap itself around people's necks. When combined with spells that increased its strength, it was an excellent security device often used to capture intruders.

Harry imagined the vine wrapping itself around Snape's neck and squeezing. Hmm, very nice image.

The creaking of old wood and ringing of the shop's doorbell announced Snape's exit. Harry gently moved the vine aside and peeked over the top of the cart.

With his robes swirling threateningly around him, Snape was thankfully headed in the opposite direction when he suddenly stumbled and cursed. Curiosity piqued, Harry forgot that he was hiding and stood up, trying to see who would be the unfortunate victim of Snape's sharp tongue.

Snape was staring at a small figure sitting on the ground at his feet. Shaking its curly-haired head, it twisted around and looked right up at Snape, giving Harry a clear view of its face. Surprised, Harry realized it was a little girl. She was dressed in simple pale blue robes and was probably no more than five years old ... well, as far as Harry could guess. He hadn't been around many small children; she could be younger.

Snape glared at the little girl. "Where _are_ your parents?" he asked, using that chilling, condemning voice that made most first years break down in tears.

To Harry's amazement the girl didn't even so much as give a sniffle. She just blinked, reached up with tiny hands, and after getting a firm grip of Snape's robes, used it to pull herself to her feet. Keeping her grip, she then tugged until a very bewildered Snape hesitantly knelt down in front of her. She whispered something in his ear, then tightly wrapped her arms around his neck.

Harry stared. Now _that_ was blackmail material. Ron and Hermione would never believe him when he told them what he'd just seen. And the look on Snape's face was indescribable. For just a second, the man looked like he was going to go into shock.

Then Snape heaved a reluctant sigh, awkwardly wrapped his arms around the little girl and climbed to his feet with his burden. Now it was Harry's turn to be shocked; Snape never willingly touched anyone, let alone held a child. The professor shifted his bag on his shoulder, adjusting it so he could carry it and the girl, and turned around. His gaze landed directly on Harry.

Harry froze, really understanding for the first time what the expression "deer caught in the headlights" meant. He was caught by the dark gleam flashing in Snape's eyes and, with a sinking stomach, he waited for his punishment; he had no doubt that Snape knew he had seen it all.

Snape hesitated for the barest of a second, as if choosing just the right thing to say. "Mr. Potter. I see you've taken to spying on your professors."

Spying? Harry sputtered; he hadn't been spying! He'd just been hiding from Snape and had seen something that he knew Snape wouldn't want anyone who knew him seeing…okay, so technically he'd been spying. But not on purpose!

Snape was smirking as he watched Harry come to the conclusion that, yeah, he was in trouble. Admitting defeat, Harry picked up his school supplies and with his head hanging, moved to stand in front of Snape to hear just how many points he'd cost Gryffindor this time. It didn't matter that school hadn't started yet, Snape had a vindictive streak and he'd just take the points away on the first day of school. Maybe if Harry was lucky he'd get detention too. And, no, he wasn't even going to argue that he wasn't guilty, because Snape would just take more points away for being insolent. Bloody bastard.

Snape shifted the girl to his other hip and looked thoughtful. "I'll make you a deal, Mr. Potter." Harry's head shot up. "You help me find this young lady's parents and I'll restrain myself from the joy of subtracting points from Gryffindor."

Dumbfounded, Harry blinked and tried to find the loophole. He could handle helping Snape, especially if it kept him out of trouble with the other Gryffindors. Last year, his constant bickering with Snape had resulted in the loss of a personal grand total of 105 points, which resulted in the loss of the house cup to Ravenclaw by ten points. Harry had felt like crawling under the table and dying under the others' glares. He'd been quickly forgiven - after all it was Snape who'd taken away all the points - but he still felt bad about it. There was no way he was going to start this year off on the wrong foot.

"It's a deal," Harry said, not giving the proposal a second thought.

Snape nodded, the look on his face indicating that he had known Harry was going to agree all along. "Let's go to Diagon Alley's Lost and Found first. See if anyone has reported her missing."

Completely forgetting about the Apothecary, Harry followed Snape down the street, unaware of the huge detour his life was about to take.


	2. Chapter 2

**Bumbling Fools**

Diagon Alley's Lost and Found was, like most things in the wizarding world, not what Harry expected. The small, drab-gray building was squashed between two wizard clothing shops and stuck out like a sore thumb in comparison to the colorful buildings around it. It didn't help that the place also looked abandoned.

There was no sign out front, and after glancing around, Harry began to wonder if they had the correct place. He turned to question Snape only to wind up stifling a laugh. Snape was once again trying to get Claire to keep her hands to herself. To Harry's unending amusement, and Snape's disgust, Claire seemed to have a fascination with braids. And Snape's hair was just long enough to put some small braids in.

Other than her name, they hadn't been able to get much out of Claire. They had asked her dozens of questions on the walk over, but her answer was always, "My name is Claire and my parents lost me." At first, Harry thought her answer funny, but after the fourth repetition of the exact same reply, he couldn't help but feel his skin crawl. There was something really off with the girl, and as if sharing the sentiment, Snape had gotten them to the Lost and Found in record time.

Yet the strangeness of the situation didn't stop Harry from laughing at his professor's predicament. Snape glared at him as he pulled his hair out of Claire's hands. Harry bit his bottom lip to try to contain his smile. Failing that, he gestured to the building, trying to divert Snape's attention, and said, "Are you sure this is the right place?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Yes, I'm sure," he answered sarcastically. He reached out to a hook beside the door, which had hundreds of small white balls hanging from it, each on their own golden chain. Snape pulled three of the balls off the hook, dumped one into Harry's hand and gratefully shoved another into Claire's hands, thus keeping her occupied with something other than his hair. "Whatever you do, don't let go of these."

Harry held the glittering ball up to the sunlight. "Why? What are they for?"

"They're to keep you from getting permanently lost inside." Snape reached for the door, mumbling under his breath, "Though that might not be a bad idea."

"Huh?" Harry frowned, barely catching that last sentence as he followed Snape into the building.

To say that the place was huge would be an understatement. Hogwarts could have easily been placed inside the crowded area with space to spare. "But, how…" Harry trailed off and looked back at the open door, remembering that the building's exterior had appeared rather small.

"Expansion spells, quite a few more than legal, I'm sure," Snape said, lifting Claire a bit higher in his arms as he began making his way through the crowded room. "Keep up, Potter. I'll never hear the end of it from Albus if I lost Hogwarts' boy hero in here."

Still puzzled, Harry glanced at his ball as he followed Snape. Sure the place was big but he couldn't see how someone could get permanently lost and what good was a white ball…wait a second. Harry paused and took a closer look at the ball. It had a little red arrow in it that was spinning frantically. As Harry watched, the arrow slowed to a stop, pointing back at the entrance where two heavily robed figures were entering, their faces concealed by their hoods.

Harry nodded in understanding; the ball was like a compass, only instead of pointing north, it pointed towards the door. Made sense.

"Potter!"

Harry jumped and hurried after Snape, never noticing that the taller of the two robed figures had pointed at him, only to have his hand slapped down by his companion. They exchanged glances and pushed through the crowd after him, unaware of Snape's eyes tracking them with a dark look.

* * *

For a simple lost and found, this one was quite crowded. Some of the people sat on wooden benches waiting patiently, while others gathered in small groups and talked. Most though, were standing in the lines that led up to various counters. The counters were divided into different sections: lost items, lost clothes, lost animals and so on. Harry quickly realized that he could no longer see the exit and he gave the white compass ball a grateful squeeze, feeling reassured. The place was absolutely huge**,** and Harry was quite curious to find out why such a big space was needed. 'Probably some sort of magical explanation,' he thought as he looked up at Snape to ask.

Harry's question died before it left his mouth; Snape's eyes were narrowed, dark with wariness. Something was wrong, very wrong. Harry could feel the tension radiating off the older man's body, could see that Snape's attention was not on the lost child line they had just stepped into, but on something else, something behind them.

Harry slowly moved his hand to his wand and carefully began looking around. He had never liked Snape**,** but he had learned to trust the professor's instincts. Harry's eyes fell on the two robed people he'd seen earlier. They were getting in the lost animal line a few counters over.

"Who are they?" Harry whispered, leaning a little closer to Snape's side.

Snape slowly shook his head. "I'm not sure," he said in a low voice, "but they've been showing an inordinately high interest in us."

Harry nodded. "What should we do?"

Snape eased his free hand over his own wand. "Let's wait and see."

* * *

The taller man tugged at his robe, pushing down the desire to yank the hood off. They hadn't had the time to perform the glamour spells to hide their identities, so they were stuck with having to hide behind the robes or risk getting caught. Still, it didn't help that he felt like he was suffocating under the heavy material.

With a quick glance over his shoulder, he shifted his stance, trying to keep his wife out of Snape's direct line of sight. He was sure that if Snape were to lay his eyes on the object she was whispering over, all hell was going to break loose.

"How's it coming?" he asked her.

Hermione chanted a few more words, then paused and looked up at him with haunted eyes. "I'm not sure Ron. I've managed to set the connections up with Snape, but Harry's going to have to hold Claire in order for me to set up his."

Ron sighed and shook his head. "This is crazy. You know that, right?"

Hermione quietly fidgeted with a thin gold chain around her neck, accidentally revealing the small, beat-up Time-Turner hanging at the end of it. Ron pointedly looked at the magical hourglass; and Hermione, upon realizing what she had done, hurriedly tucked it back within the folds of her robe.

She took a deep breath. "If we don't do this, or it doesn't work, you know what's going to happen," she said in a soft whisper.

"I know," Ron swallowed painfully, feeling so much older than his twenty-six years. "Let's get this over with, okay? The sooner the past nine years are erased from history, the better."

Hermione nodded and focused her blood-shot eyes on the object in her hands, - a Gathering Ring that Ron was trying to keep Snape from seeing. Solid black when they had first found it, the six-inch wide ring was now half red and half green, making visible the mysterious markings that covered its surface. The markings were written in a language no longer understood in either the muggle or wizarding world.

Gathering Rings were the stuff of fairy tales for children of the wizarding world. Incredibly powerful, the Rings often played key parts in tales of true love, serving as a means of forming an ultimate, unbreakable bond between two lovers. The exact nature of the bond changed from story to story.

On the downside, Gathering Rings also played a prominent part in horror stories as they could be used to bond two people without their permission …which was exactly what they were trying to do with Harry and Snape. With that thought, Ron winced and turned away from Hermione to continue watching Snape.

Only to find Snape studying them.

"Oh damn," Ron said. "Hermione, hurry up because our time just ran out."

* * *

"Well?" Harry asked.

"Well what, Potter?" Snape growled, obviously growing annoyed with Harry's repeated attempts to get more information.

Harry rolled his eyes. "What are we going to do about them?"

"_We_ are doing nothing. _You_ are going to stay here and watch Claire while _I_ talk to them." That said, he dropped Claire into Harry's arms and pushed his way through the crowd which, after seeing his glaring face, parted like the scared first years for the Slytherin Potions Master.

Claire immediately reached up and started braiding a lock of Harry's unruly hair. Harry made a disgusted face. "Geez, what is it with you?"

* * *

Ceritus was a very happy man. Having been an avid fan of early wizarding history all his life, Ceritus had developed early on a fascination with a little-known book called the Book of Trials. Ancient writings about the book had indicated that it was used to test wizards who wished to publicly use magic in the muggle world. Those who passed got permission to do so; those who didn't – well, didn't matter. They were always dead.

Wizards who had passed the trials set by the Book were few and far between; the last known one being Merlin who had gotten himself in that whole mess with King Arthur. 'The man really should have known better than to mess with muggle royalty,' Ceritus thought to himself. 'They were crazy, the whole lot of 'em.' After that little disaster, the wizarding world had separated itself from the muggle world as much as possible and the Book of Trials was mysteriously 'misplaced.'

But Ceritus had found it.

As a historian for the Ministry of Magic, Ceritus had spent many of his off hours, and most of his working ones, searching through old documents, looking for the slightest bit of evidence regarding the Book. His fellow employees had just shaken their heads and went about their business.

It just so happened that one day a visiting Auror commented within Ceritus's earshot that he was sure that Ceritus had lost his mind. Since he was a very literal man (historians always are), Ceritus took the Auror's words to heart, and on his next day off headed down to Diagon Alley's Lost and Found where he filled out a report for Missing Internal Organs.

After filling out the report, he had a stroke of genius and also filled out a Missing Book Report. It wouldn't hurt to try, that was for sure. The Lost and Found had several vaults full of objects that their owners had never bothered to look for. In fact, the Lost and Found had recently started tours of some of the older vaults, which had turned out to be quite popular. The vault for women's lingerie and the vault for muggle objects which, of course, could never be claimed, were the biggest hits.

Someone clearing their throat brought Ceritus's attention back to the present. On the other side of the counter he was waiting at stood a dust-covered clerk. She shook her head, sending clouds of white dust into the air as she unceremoniously dumped a book in front of him. "This what you're looking for?" she asked, her tone of voice saying that it'd better be, because she wasn't looking again.

Ceritus paid no attention to her. He couldn't breathe, his eyes eagerly eating up the sight before him and committing it to memory. The book was bound in an ornate leather cover and had "Book of Trials" inscribed across the cover in dark blue ink.

A finger poked him in the arm. "Oi, I'm not asking you again. Is this the book you're looking for?"

Ceritus looked at the clerk dumbly before realization set in, and he quickly clutched the book to his chest so she couldn't take it back. "Yes, yes, thank you," he fumbled, already pushing away from the counter, eager to leave so he could examine the book in private. There was no way he was going to risk examining it there.

The clerk just waved him off with a "Whatever," her attention already on the next customer.

With the book held close, Ceritus used his free hand to pull the Never Lost Ball out of his pocket; its little red arrow already pointing towards the door. He needed to get home as quickly as possible so he could begin studying the many spells and wards placed on the book to keep it from being read by prying eyes. Ceritus wanted to know what was within its ancient pages, to finally know for certain the truths written in the book that was his life-long obsession.

Absorbed in his thoughts about what he would find, Ceritus paid no attention to the people he collided into or the hexes they threatened to throw at him for being rude. He noticed no one, not even the two people whose dark robes eerily resembled those of the Death Eaters.

Actually, to say that he hadn't noticed them at all would be a lie, as he definitely noticed them with what happened next.

Ceritus had blindly shoved into the smaller one, who was standing in the way of his direct path to the door. The lady gave a surprised yelp and fumbled for a large ring that fell out of her hands.

Right onto his book.

Ceritus slammed to a stop and held his breath, unsure of how the magical wards of the book would react. A few seconds passed; nothing happened. Then a few more seconds went by and he exhaled in relief.

Then everything went completely crazy.

A bright blue light flashed through the room; its force knocking witches and wizards off their feet and driving Ceritus to the ground, forcing the air out of his lungs. The light hung suspended over the group for one terrifying minute then disappeared without a trace.

Dazed, Ceritus blinked at the ceiling, trying to get his eyes to focus and piece together what in the name of Merlin had just happened. He didn't have much time to do so.

A pair of strong, angry hands grabbed the front of his robe and hauled him to his feet. Ceritus found himself face to face with a heavily scarred and furious redheaded man. "What in hell have you done?" the man demanded. "Where's the ring?"

Ceritus squirmed, clutching his book to his chest in fear. "I don't understand what you're--" He stuttered to a stop as the man tightened his grip.

The lady he had bumped into pulled back her hood revealing bushy brown hair, her face similarly scarred like the man's. She grasped the sleeve of her companion, her eyes wide. "Ron," she said, "Snape, Harry and Claire are gone too."

Ron's eyes flashed and Ceritus suddenly found his feet dangling a couple of inches off the floor as Ron lifted him right off the ground in anger. "You better tell me what's going on right now because we haven't come all this way to have some bumbling fool--"

Ron never got to finish his threat as Aurors apparated in and with shouts of "Petrificus Totalus!" quickly had Ron, Hermione, Ceritus and several other people dropping to the ground.

tbc


	3. Chapter 3

**Of Headaches and Other Problems**

Harry had a headache. It wasn't the dull ache of too many hours spent studying with Hermione, nor was it the pressure of an oncoming cold. He could have easily endured either one of those. This headache however, was a sharp, piercing throb that beat against the inside of his skull like Dudley trying to get into a locked refrigerator.

Groaning, Harry slowly rolled onto his back. He felt like he'd been knocked out by a bludger. 'Maybe that's what happened,' he groggily thought as he attempted to pull his scattered thoughts together. The closest thing he could come up with was a vague recollection of crowds and Snape. Maybe it had been a quidditch game with Snape refereeing.

No, that wasn't quite right. He'd be in a hospital bed since he was hurt, and whatever he was lying on was too hard to be a bed or the sand at the bottom of the quidditch field. Harry slowly shifted, feeling rock scrape at his skin through the fabric of his robes. The sensation was not reassuring.

Harry hated what he had to do next, but he knew it was necessary. He carefully cracked open one eyelid, letting a ray of bright sunlight slam into his skull. The throbbing picked up its tempo and with a low moan, Harry wrapped his arms around his head to shield his eyes. Oh, that hurt.

But he still needed to know where he was. A few unsuccessful tries later, Harry finally succeeded in getting his eyes to stay open long enough to look around. Blinking furiously to bring everything into focus, he pulled himself up into a sitting position and took in his blurry surroundings.

Rock walls. There were rock walls on all four sides that were dark and roughly hued with no doors or windows to indicate how he'd gotten in. Frowning, Harry unsteadily looked up. The walls ended about twenty feet above him, revealing a vivid blue sky. Great, he'd fallen into a huge pit.

But hadn't he been in Diagon Alley? Dizziness swept through him and Harry flung out a hand in an attempt to brace himself upright. Instead of rock, his hand encountered cloth. What the -- Snape! The Hogwarts professor was awkwardly curled up next to Harry; his right shoulder hunched underneath his body in a way that showed it had borne the brunt of the fall.

Darkness began encroaching on the edges of his vision and Harry winced as he tried to fight it back and come up with a plan of action at the same time. He wasn't going to be able to stay conscious long, so he needed to get Snape up. "Sir?" he asked tentatively, not quite daring to reach out and shake his professor's other shoulder. If the man was awake, he'd probably get hexed for doing so. Snape always had this 'don't touch me' aura around him, one which nobody violated.

Snape didn't respond and Harry watched with a worried detachment as the world started to tilt and fade around him. He was rapidly running out of time. "Snape!" he called again, this time injecting more force into it.

There was a low grunt of pain announcing Snape's return to the land of the living. Harry sighed in relief and lay back down, letting the darkness overtake him again.

* * *

There were fingers probing his skull. That was Harry's first coherent thought as he attempted to work his way back to consciousness. The next thought was to question why there were fingers probing his skull. They gently felt around one tender spot, creating a spike of pain that had Harry grabbing at the fingers to pull them away.

"Don't move Potter." Hands brushed Harry's away and the probing continued. Harry forced his eyes open and looked up to see his grim-faced professor. Huh?

Memories quickly started falling into place. Snape. Big pit, bump on the head. A bump that was now being poked by his slimy git of a Potion's professor. How did he get himself into these messes?

Snape finished his examination in silence, then sat back on his heels, his dark eyes drilling into Harry's. "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

Harry shifted his arms and his legs, double-checking even though he couldn't remember any other pain from when he'd been conscious earlier. "No," he finally answered, "just the head."

Snape snorted and slowly stood up. "Then we have nothing to worry about. You're as hardheaded as your father was, and despite what I believe to be a slight concussion, I'm sure you'll be back to your obnoxious Gryffindor self in no time."

Harry bit back the retort that automatically sprang to his lips and climbed to his feet, stubbornly refusing Snape's help even though the world was spinning again. He braced himself against the nearest wall and, after waiting for the dizziness to pass, took a clearer look at the pit.

It was still dark and grimy-looking, but this time he noticed the human skeletons that littered the floor. There where eight skeletons in total, and they were all in various states of decomposition. Some had decayed to the point where he could barely tell that they were human, while the more recent ones had thankfully decayed enough that the smell of rot faintly lingered in the air instead of overpowering everything.

"Where are we?" he asked.

"I have no idea," Snape answered from his spot on the ground where he was searching for something in his black leather bag. He paused and looked at Harry, his expression tight. "My wand is missing. Do you have yours?"

Harry searched through his pockets and his shopping bags, which had apparently been left with him, growing more worried as his wand failed to show up. "It's gone."

Snape slowly nodded as if that was what he'd expected. "I'd feared as much. What is the last thing you remember before we woke up here?"

Frowning, Harry searched through his fuzzy memories. "I was holding the girl while you went to talk to those two people. There was some sort of explosion and --wait a minute! Where's Claire?"

"Evidently not here." Snape's expression was dark and Harry was mildly thankful that it wasn't aimed at him. "I tried calling for her while you were unconscious, but there was no answer from her or anyone else. Wherever we are, we are either the only ones here, or the ones responsible for this situation are choosing to remain silent."

As if in response to Snape's statement there was a shimmer of air, and two rolled up parchments appeared at their feet. The professor and student traded suspicious looks, then Snape carefully picked both parchments up. He tore through the wax seal on the first one and unrolled it. Harry leaned closer so he could see what it contained.

An elegant, flowing script in blue ink covered the page. 'Two attempt where only one should dare. Thus the Trials will be adjusted accordingly. Complete the challenges as they appear, for the next will not come till the prior is finished. Death and success are now the final options.' The parchment disintegrated and a gentle wind swept the dusted remains through Snape's fingers.

Harry said the first thing that came to mind, which unfortunately, wasn't the most intelligent. "You would think they'd at least have bothered rhyming it."

Snape shot him a poisonous look.

"What?" Harry quickly defended himself. "I'm just saying."

Snape glared at him again for good measure, then tore open the seal on the second parchment. Harry rightly assumed that it was the first challenge. In the same blue ink it read, 'Find the area through which you seek to exit.' This time though, the parchment did not disintegrate when he finished reading it.

Puzzled, Harry ran the sentence through his head a couple of times, trying to figure out exactly what it meant. Drawing a complete blank, he looked up at Snape to ask what he thought, but Snape seemed to have read his mind. "Before you ask, no, I don't know what it means."

The slight undertone of sarcasm had Harry raising his hackles. "Okay," he said, drawing the word out in the hopes that it might bother the professor. "So what do we do next?"

Snape ignored his weak attempt at being annoying and focused on the question instead. As he thought, he carefully folded the parchment and stuck it in a pocket in his robes. "The first parchment implies that we are on our own for these trials, whatever they are. First, we need to inventory what we have, so empty your bags. Our next priority will be finding a way out of here, followed by locating a source of water."

Harry quickly emptied his bags, stacking his school supplies in front of him as Snape also emptied his black leather bag. Potion ingredients were piled up with schoolbooks, various inks and replacement quills. Harry found himself feeling thankful that he'd put off going to the Weasly twins joke shop for another day. Snape would have not hesitated to confiscate all of it.

Harry emptied his last bag by simply dumping it out. To his confusion, a large red and green ring fell out of the bag with his other purchases, followed by a couple of pale blue bird feathers. Ignoring the feathers, Harry picked the ring up and studied it, his eyes drawn to the strange black writing that covered its surface. Well, whatever it was, it wasn't his.

"Professor? Is this yours?"

Snape looked up from his bag. His face drained of all its colour, and for a second Harry actually thought that the professor would pass out. The older man swallowed nervously and in a faint, shocked voice finally managed to ask, "Where did you get that?"


	4. Chapter 4

**Realizations**

For the first time in his admittedly interesting life, Albus Dumbledore answered a summons to the Ministry of Magic feeling wholly unprepared for the upcoming conversation. Usually he had at least a vague notion of what was going on, or if it was Cornelius Fudge, he knew not only the topic of conversation but also how the conversation would play out, word for word.

However, the urgent message hadn't come from Fudge, but from Felix Rand, a former Hogwarts student who was now working as an Auror. Felix wrote that he had two very interesting individuals occupying one of his jail cells: a man and a woman, both of whom claimed a close acquaintance with the Headmaster. Circumstances being what they were (which had not been explained to Albus, other than a brief mention of an explosion of magical energy at Diagon Alley's Lost and Found), Felix thought that it would be most prudent for the Headmaster to come and try to identify them, even though the two individuals in question also claimed that the Headmaster would most likely not recognize them for who they were . Intrigued by this odd, confusing little message, Dumbledore had set out for the Ministry immediately.

Felix met him at the front door, his short-cropped black hair gleaming in the sunlight. "Headmaster," he greeted as he shook the professor's hand. "I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but I believe this situation does warrant your attention."

Dumbledore felt his curiosity going up another notch. Felix had been sorted into Slytherin for a good reason; he had a suspicious streak a mile wide, coupled with a ruthless cunning that served to make him a formidable Auror. For him to essentially admit that the situation was strange enough to warrant outside attention meant that the situation was serious indeed.

"So you think there is cause for concern?" Dumbledore asked.

"Yes, I do," Felix answered as he led Dumbledore through the front door and down a complex network of hallways. "We can find no documentation on them, and attempts at questioning have been futile at best. When they were arrested they weren't wearing glamour spells and carried only their wands, though the woman also had a malfunctioning Time-Turner secreted under her robes. I would have said they were time travelers, but as we both know, that couldn't be possible with the Time-Turner malfunctioning."

Time-Turners were designed to automatically return their travelers to their correct time if they were damaged or turned off. It cut down on the problem of people getting lost or stranded in time. So logically, with the Time-Turner broken, the mysterious man and woman had to belong to this time frame. Yet their lack of identification indicated otherwise. The situation was growing stranger by the second.

"Has it been determined if they were the cause of the explosion at the Lost and Found?"

"No," Felix said, pausing in his explanation to unlock the door leading to the jail cells. He pushed the huge door open, made a visual sweep of the hallway, and then looked over his shoulder at the Headmaster. "But considering we cannot even determine their names, I'm inclined to believe they are at the center of it."

"I see," Dumbledore said, his mind whirling with possibilities as he attempted to put everything together.

Felix silently led him down the long hallway to the last cell on the left where two people could be heard arguing. Their voices were low and the comments hissed, trying to keep their argument as private as possible. Dumbledore put a restraining hand on Felix's arm to keep him in the shadows, while taking a moment to observe them unnoticed.

The man was the taller of the two by several inches, but like the woman, he was extremely thin. It wasn't a healthy slenderness, but a stressed and taunt thinness that spoke of little food and a struggle for survival. The scars covering their faces and hands enforced this idea. Most of the scars were the results of flesh healed without magic, yet there were also the jagged black lines caused by curse spells. Whether they were the results of fighting or torture, Dumbledore couldn't tell. But he did know that both types of scars could have been prevented, or at least minimalized, if they had been given proper medical attention at the time they were received.

The red-haired man was pacing the cell, frustration coming off him in waves. The woman, whose bushy hair was pulled off her face in a harsh ponytail, was in a similar state. She stood in the center of the cell, her arms folded across her chest in a stiff unyieldingness, as if to block out whatever was bothering her by that action alone. They seemed so familiar.

"We shouldn't have done that," the woman fumed.

The man spun around in mid-stride. "Damn it! Would you just drop it already? It's been done! There's nothing we can do about it. We need help and he's our best chance."

"But contacting Dumbledore may attract the attention of-"

"Don't," the man interrupted, glaring at his companion. "We have no choice and you know it."

Dumbledore stared at them as the memory of an argument he had witnessed last year suddenly came to mind. Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley had indulged in a spirited debate in the Great Hall over whether studying took precedence over Quidditch on a Saturday morning. The argument had been nowhere near as serious as this one, but the similar body language and familiar hair suddenly left the Headmaster in no doubt of the identities of the inmates. He was looking at older versions of his two Hogwarts students.

Dumbledore stepped into the light. "There are choices for every situation young man, which you very well know. I think we have much to discuss. After I bail you both out, of course." He smiled at their shocked faces, which were rapidly breaking into grins.

"Sir? You know who they are?"

Dumbledore almost winced. Unfortunately, he had to do something about Felix. He turned to his former student who was patiently waiting for an answer. Dumbledore momentarily played with the idea of making something up, but unfortunately, he didn't have the time to build up a proper story to back up his answer. Felix was smart enough to find any holes and would come looking for other answers, and that would be problematic.

Best to go with the truth. In a round about way, of course.

"Felix, do you remember that discussion we had near the end of your seventh year? The one with Professor Snape?"

Felix narrowed his eyes in slight suspicion, but he slowly nodded. His Head of House had arranged a private meeting with the Headmaster to discuss his options after he had hinted that he didn't want to follow in his father's footsteps as a servant of Voldemort.

"Do you remember what Professor Snape told you?"

Felix silently remembered the words that had ultimately changed his life. Snape had said, his voice coated with bitter amusement at the time, "Some paths in life are harder than others and that due to the screwed up nature of the universe, the more difficult paths are usually the correct ones." Felix studied the Headmaster, his quick mind applying the past to the situation at hand. "You want me to let them out, don't you?" It was the harder path, one that in all likelihood would get him fired. Just like becoming an Auror had meant disownment from his family.

"I would not ask it of you unless it was of the utmost importance."

The young Auror clenched his jaw and debated, staring at his two prisoners. Everyone knew Dumbledore was a bit mad, but he was always right about the things that really mattered - and it appeared that this really mattered.

He sighed and pulled out his keys. He'd been thinking about a new career anyway. "Sir, I hope you have a position for an ex-Auror open on your staff."

Dumbledore smiled. "Always."

* * *

Felix led them through a maze of hallways to a large room where the belongings of arrested wizards were temporarily kept until their owners were released or charged. With a stroke of major luck, they managed to avoid running into any of the other Aurors on the way.

Felix carefully opened the door and peeked inside. Upon seeing that it was empty, he quickly ushered the Headmaster and the two mysterious people inside.

"Wait here," he said, then began searching through one of the large lockers used to hold various magical objects, seeking their Time-Turner and wands. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye, and realized the woman was heading towards the bookshelf. It was empty except for a large book that had been confiscated from a rather distraught Ministry of Magic historian during the raid. Felix had been forced to send him to St. Mungo's for treatment in the hopes that they could calm him enough to question him. Felix paused in his search and turned so he could see what she was up to.

The woman had an extremely thoughtful look on her face as she carefully picked up the book. "Book of Trials," she murmured to herself as she read the cover, "now where have I heard that before?" She tried to open the book but it refused to open. She frowned, then lightly bit her bottom lip, her mind obviously working through something.

"Professor Dumbledore," she said slowly, "I think we're going to need this."

Dumbledore didn't ask why she thought they needed the book, but immediately shot an inquiring look at Felix. He hesitated for a fraction of a second, then purposely turned his back to the group and continued searching through the locker. When he turned around with their wands and Time-Turner, the book was missing from the shelves and there was now a mysterious weight pulling down one side of the redheaded man's robes.

A half-hour later, Felix returned to his desk after having snuck the two strange people out a side door and escorting the Headmaster out the front door. He hadn't wanted anybody to notice anything strange sooner than necessary. Felix mused on what he should do next, and then decided that working on his letter of resignation might be a good idea. It would save the Ministry the joy of firing him.

* * *

Harry looked from the ring to Snape, then back to the ring. He very slowly and very carefully placed it on the ground, then jerked his hand back as if he was pulling it out of a cage that contained one of Hagrid's pets. "It's not mine, I swear. It fell out of one of my bags and I have no idea how it got there."

Snape continued staring at the object with an expression that Harry would later label as 'absolute horror'. It was an unsettling expression to see on the face of a man who regularly faced Voldemort's evil.

Harry shifted uneasily as the silence built. "Uh….what is it?"

"Mr. Potter," Snape said slowly. "I know you were raised by muggles, but even you should know by now what a Gathering Ring is."

Harry gulped as he suddenly saw the innocent looking ring in a whole new light. "I thought they were black," he managed to stutter past his tight throat.

"They are." Snape paused, a strange glint entering his eyes. "When they're inactive."

It took a minute for that to penetrate, but when it did, Harry jumped up with a yelp. "Are you telling me that thing is active?" he shouted.

"No," Snape snarled, snapping out of his daze, "it's merely changed colors to look pretty. Of course it's active, you imbecile!"

"But they disappear when the rites are comple…" Harry trailed off in his protest as he watched Snape pull one of his miniature braids in front of his face and begin to unbraid it. Little white sparks of magic fell from the braid as it was undone.

As a Gryffindor, Harry had been accused of doing many idiotic things due to his tendency to attract trouble and act before thinking things through, but that in no way meant that he was stupid. He quickly undid one of his own braids and watched the same white sparks fall from it.

'Okay,' he thought nervously, 'let's put this all together.' That's what Hermione would do. He had one active Gathering Ring and both he and Snape had the after-effects of a huge magical spell literally falling out of their hair.

Yet the Ring hadn't disappeared like it should have done when the spell was finished; therefore, the spell hadn't been completed. Oh, and least he forget, the strange little girl, Claire, was missing.

The logical conclusion: Claire, a little girl for Merlin's sake, had been attempting to bond him to Snape.

Harry shuddered. Had it only been this morning when he'd thought that losing House points was the worst thing that could possibly happen to him?


	5. Chapter 5

**The First Challenge**

Harry numbly sat on the ground and watched as Snape yanked his fingers through his black hair, jerking apart the last of his braids. Harry had already removed all of his; Claire hadn't had the time to do more than a few of them. He felt slightly better for having them out, but the Gathering Ring that lay innocently on the ground was a glaring reminder that removal of the braids wasn't a final solution.

"How do we turn it off?" he asked, as Snape, who had recovered from his shock began sorting through their stuff. Some of it was placed in Snape's black leather bag while the rest of it, -mostly books,- was discarded in a pile off to the side.

"We don't," Snape answered as he tossed a Quidditch magazine to the side then forced himself to pick up the Gathering Ring and stick it in the bag. He looked up just in time to watch Harry's face drain of all its color.

"Oh for - Gathering Rings are a very specialized form of magic, one of which I have only the slightest knowledge. If a bond was started I have no idea how to complete the rites, nor terminate them. It's a problem we will worry about when the more immediate concern is taken care of," Snape's voice hardened, "which in case you haven't noticed, is getting out of here before food and water becomes an issue! Now get up and see if you can find a hidden exit in the walls or flooring while I finish here."

Feeling heavily chastised; Harry covered it with a glare and began an up-close inspection of the walls, careful not to disturb the skeletons as he searched. Snape, however, had no such reservations. Once he had finished loading his bag, the professor started searching under the skeletons, moving them aside in a detached manner that was respectful to the dead, yet showed no concern with moving them from their resting place. The whole thing gave Harry the shivers.

The search was a fruitless one and they both met up in the center of the pit to rethink the situation. Harry had even tried climbing one of the walls, only to have the solid looking rock crumble out from beneath his fingers. Repeated tries had yielded the same results and Harry now had scraped hands and knees.

"If there's an exit, we probably need a wand to open it," Harry said sourly, feeling aggravated over the lack of progress.

Snape sharply shook his head. "No. Our wands were taken away on purpose, and since this is a challenge that means there is a solution, one that doesn't require magic."

Harry eyed the height of the walls. "Maybe one of us could stand on the other's shoulders. It might be enough to reach the edge."

Snape visibly tensed at the suggestion. "That's not going to be possible either," he finally said, looking slightly disgusted with himself. "The mobility in my right shoulder is limited. I wouldn't be able to pull myself over the edge or push you up high enough to reach it."

Harry frowned, but suddenly realized Snape was telling the truth. From removing the braids to moving the skeletons, Snape had done as much work as possible using only his left hand. "How bad is it?"

"That is not any-"

"Professor Snape! Keeping the truth from me is going to accomplish nothing except creating the potential for more problems! Now how bad is it?" Harry and Snape blinked, both of them a little surprised by the outburst.

Snape paused, then decided that arguing was a pointless waste of energy and gave up with a sigh. He slowly moved his right arm in different positions, taking the opportunity to really check it as his hiding of the injury had made it impossible to do a thorough inspection. It was quite clear that the damage was rather extensive. Close to his side, it was fairly mobile but once he tried to use his shoulder muscles to lift it away from his body, his whole arm started shaking with weakness. He couldn't lift it to shoulder height, let alone higher, which would have been necessary to push Harry high enough to reach the edge.

"Shouldn't your arm be in a sling?"

Snape rolled his eyes in exasperation. "And just what would we use to make a sling?" he asked sarcastically. It wasn't like there was an abundance of material just lying around.

Harry got that point loud and clear, but his Gryffindor stubbornness was telling him that there had to be a solution. "Watch," he said simply and walked over to the discard pile to pick up a couple of his shopping bags. They were a little stronger than muggle shopping bags and would do nicely for what he had in mind. As he walked back to Snape, he began ripping the fabric-like bags and tying them together, creating a sturdy sling. It took him a couple of tries to get it fitted correctly, but when he was finished, Snape had his right arm in a sling. The professor didn't say anything, but Harry decided to take Snape's grudging nod as all the 'thank you' he was going to get.

However, he did manage to refrain from smirking when he realized he'd just got one over Snape. Best to move on. "So we can't find a hidden door and climbing out isn't an option. What exactly did that second parchment say?"

"Find the area through which you seek to exit," Snape automatically recited from memory, his eyes scanning the walls again as he looked for anything that they might have missed the first dozen times they had searched.

Harry looked up at the sky that was darkening as the day went on. Sunset wasn't far away. He grimaced; he didn't want to spend the night with the skeletons, nor Snape for that matter. The urge to escape tripled.

"Let's go with the obvious then," Harry waved a hand at the top of the pit, "that's the area through which we seek to escape. Now what?"

Snape didn't answer as his thoughts were suddenly occupied. The phrasing of the challenge was nagging him. He repeated it, then nearly cursed out loud. The challenge wasn't an instruction, but a riddle! Find the _area._ The first challenge wanted the mathematical area of the top of the pit.

"Mr. Potter, grab the tape measure out of my bag."

Harry opened his mouth to ask why, then decided he'd find out soon enough. He dug through Snape's bag, carefully avoiding the Gathering Ring, and pulled out the tape measure that had been on his list of supplies for Care of Magical Creatures. It could expand to twice the size of the Quidditch field at Hogwarts, which had Harry a little worried. Knowing Hagrid, he had some sort of extremely large, ferocious animal that he wanted the students to raise this year.

Harry returned to Snape's side. "Now what?"

"We're going to measure the length of the walls," Snape said as he grabbed one end of the tape and headed away from Harry. Harry frowned, but seeing that Snape clearly had his mind on something and would probably snap at him for asking questions, he obediently helped Snape measure the length of one wall then the one next to it.

Snape hurried back to his bag and pulled out one of Harry's new quills and a new inkwell. He then pulled the parchment that contained the first challenge out of his robes, flipped it over and began multiplying the two lengths together. Harry leaned over his shoulder and watched as Snape quickly did the math and scribbled the answer across the paper. "Professor?" he asked, still confused as to what was going on.

"Mr. Potter," Snape said as he sat back on his heels, "how do you find the area of a square or rectangular surface?"

"Length times width. But what does that have to do with finding the area through which--" Harry's eyes widened as he suddenly figured it out for himself. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I think not," Snape said as he held up the parchment. The ink was traveling across the surface and rearranging itself so it spelled out a single word. Correct. The parchment then crumbled to dust like the previous one.

There was a brief moment of silence, then a slight tremor ran under their feet. The groan of rock shifting against rock echoed through the pit. One of the walls began to change, forming a simple staircase that led to the top of the pit.

"Yes!" Harry crowed. He grabbed Snape's black bag and darted up the stairs with Snape silently following behind him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Survival Basics**

The staff room of Hogwarts was abuzz with conversation as the teachers speculated on why the Headmaster had called a meeting on such short notice. A few were slightly perturbed as they were all immersed in last minute preparations for the new school year, but their annoyance was buried under a larger worry, namely the conspicuous absence of Professor Snape. No one had seen a trace of the man since the morning and there was an undercurrent of unease as they wondered about the punctual man's sudden disappearance.

Silence quickly descended on the group as Dumbledore entered the room, shadowed by two dark robed people whose faces were effectively hidden under their hoods. "Ah, good," Dumbledore said as he motioned the strangers to empty seats, "I see we're all here."

"All except for Severus," Madam Hooch immediately piped up.

Dumbledore sighed tiredly and slowly took his seat. He'd spent the afternoon sneaking his two time traveling students into Hogwarts. What little they had been able to tell him on the way had been disturbing. "I'm afraid Severus is one of the reasons why I have called this meeting. We have a very serious situation on our hands and currently the odds are not in our favor."

Murmurs of worry ran up and down the table. Dumbledore allowed it for a moment then held up a hand to silence them. "Everything will be explained in due time, but first I must introduce two people you already know." Puzzled glances were exchanged among the staff as he turned to the strangers, "Hermione and Ron Weasley."

There was a strained pause as everyone tried to decide if he was joking or not. McGonagall leaned forward in her chair, her expression stern. "Headmaster! Now is not the time to be pulling -" she stopped mid sentence as the strangers pulled back their hoods to reveal the unmistakable, but older, faces of two of her Gryffindor students. "What? How?" she stammered in shocked disbelief.

"We're here from the future," Ron stated bluntly, "and if things don't change, it's not going to be much of a future to look forward to."

* * *

It was Hermione who finally started after the uproar quieted down, her eyes fixed on some point over McGonagall's shoulder. "Towards the end of our seventh year," she said quietly, "rumors began circulating that Voldemort was going to make another bid to power. Fudge labeled them nonsense and laughed them off, the public followed his lead."

Her breath hitched and the blank look on her face wavered. "A week before graduation the attacks began. Hogwarts fell first. The Ministry a few hours later. Hogsmeade burned to ashes during the night."

Exclamations of disbelief exploded through the room again, Hagrid's voice booming over them all. "Tha's rubbish! He don' have enough followers ter do all tha' in one day!"

Hermione looked at him sadly, one hand absently tracing the jagged magic scar that ran up the back on her other hand. "Followers no, magic yes."

The room fell silent as each tried to picture the amount of power necessary to bring about such wide scale destruction.

Kindhearted Professor Flitwick hesitantly spoke up from the stack of books he was seated on. "Miss Granger? Was it ever determined how You-know-Who gained so much power?"

"Mrs. Weasley," Hermione corrected gently, her eyes briefly darting to Ron. "Voldemort dictated several new laws after he … subdued the wizarding world. One of the laws forbade international travel to anyone unable to provide proof of marriage. Wards kept unmarried people from leaving the country. He was arranging marriages to ensure pure blooded wizards." Hermione fiddled with her wedding ring. "We need to get out of the country as silently as possible and Ron's a pure blood so we got married in secret, forged papers and left that night."

Ron supportively squeezed her shoulder and picked up the explanation. "As for Voldemort's power, we don't know for sure but we do have a theory. Both Harry and Professor Snape disappeared a few days before the attacks began. Dumbledore, our Dumbledore that is, believed that Voldemort found a way to drain their power and transfer it to his own."

"What happened to Harry and Severus?" Dumbledore asked quietly. He had tried to ask them earlier but the two Gryffindors were now surprisingly nimble at avoiding something they didn't want to talk about.

Hermione flinched at the direct question and Ron glared at the Headmaster. "That bastard hung their bodies in front of Gringotts as an example," he spat. "To attempt to remove them for burial is punishable by death."

Some of the teachers blanched, others cursed. "I think I'm going to be sick," Hooch said as she buried her face in her hands.

Dumbledore took a moment to compose himself. Out of all the outcomes he had considered for this war, this particular version had never come up. But then again, wasn't that the nature of war?

He took a deep breath, the future was not yet set in stone, there was always hope. "I think it's time you explained why you're here."

Hermione nodded, relieved to be getting to the point. "Professor Trelawney had a prediction just before she--" Hermione bit off the rest of her sentence, glanced at Trelawney and shifted uncomfortably. "Anyway, she predicted that the past could be changed. She saw that if Harry and Severus became one in their power, then there was a chance of them defeating Voldemort."

Trelawney was so shocked that she apparently had a real prediction that she didn't bother to knowingly claim she'd already seen that possible outcome.

"But there's no true way for two wizarding powers to combine," objected McGonagall. "Combined wizard magic always works in tandem, they don't merge together."

Ron and Hermione exchanged nervous glances. "Uh, actually there is," Ron said hesitantly. "Gathering Rings."

Dumbledore watched the conversation with a mixture of concern, worry and a thread of disbelief. The two time travelers had confessed to the use of a Gathering Ring during their return to Hogwarts. He'd had some time to come to terms with it and consider the ramifications. His teachers, however, had not.

McGonagall laid her hands flat on the surface of the table, her anger growing. "Do you mean to tell me that you traveled to the past to try to bond a minor with a teacher?!"

Ron seemed to deflate. His shoulders sagged and he sank back into his chair. "If bonding my best friend with his most hated teacher means that he lives and that the world doesn't fall apart, then yes, that is exactly what we're trying to do."

McGonagall flinched; her anger cut off at its knees at the sad matter of fact response.

Hermione nudged Ron and he looked at her questioningly.

"The book," she prompted. Ron's face cleared with understanding and he pulled the large leather book out of his robes. Dumbledore leaned forward, the book had slipped his mind during the trek back and he was now curious as to why Hermione had insisted on taking it.

"We originally intended to stay away from people we knew, but now we need help and I don't know where else we could go. I was completing the last of the rites for the bonding ritual when a man collided with me. I dropped the ring on his book, which caused an explosion of magic energy. When it was over, Professor Snape, Harry and the Gathering Ring had disappeared. I'm unable to open the book and I'm beginning to think that they were somehow pulled inside. The book is familiar but I can't place it."

Professor Binns, the History of Magic teacher and Hogwart's only teacher ghost, glided to Hermione's shoulder and took a closer look. "The Book of Trials," he mused aloud. "That does sound familiar." He turned to Dumbledore after checking to see if anyone else recognized it. No one did. "If we're done here, I'll head to the library and see what I can find."

"One moment. Is there any danger to Severus or Harry from the rites not being completed?"

Hermione uncertainly shrugged her shoulders. "I've never heard of the rites not being completed, so I can't say." She kept the tiny detail that the rites were nonconsensual to herself. Someone would figure it out sooner or later, but right now she and Ron were too tired to deal with the fall out that would result from that piece of information. She was going to take advantage of their help while she still could.

"Then I think we're done here," Dumbledore said, dismissing the meeting with a reassuring smile. He smoothly picked up the Book of Trials before Hermione could reach for it. "Well then, lets see about preparing a room and hot meal for both of you."

* * *

"You think they're poisonous?"

"Try one and we'll find out."

Harry glared at Snape's surly response then reached out and pulled a cluster of yellow berries off the small bush they'd stumbled across. It was just one example of the diverse and foreign plant life that surrounded the pit. Harry was unable to put a name to any of them, not the trees that towered overhead nor the short plants that grew in the small pockets of light that struggled through the overhead canopy. Snape seemed to be at an equal loss with the local flora.

"That wasn't a suggestion Mr. Potter."

"Starving isn't an option either," he retorted stubbornly as he popped one of the berries in his mouth. Sweet and juicy, it seemed to explode on his tongue before trickling down his throat. He quickly gobbled down a few more.

They'd spent a few minutes exploring the area around the pit when they first escaped and had quickly come to the conclusion that they were in the middle of nowhere. There were no buildings, ruins, roads, hiking trails or even the stray bit of trash that usually indicated human civilization and the possibility of help. Harry resigned himself to spending the night in a forest with Snape, telling himself that it was slightly better than spending the night in the pit. That idea didn't lift his spirits.

The issue of water and shelter for the approaching night had been easily solved. A nearby stream provided fresh water. The huge roots of the trees formed arches near their bases, which entangled and overlapped before delving into the earth thus forming small caves, one of which was serving as their shelter. The air was warm and moist and Harry doubted they would need a fire for warmth, which was a good thing, as neither wizard knew how to light a fire with out magic.

Food was a problem. They weren't sure what was edible and what wasn't. The yellow berries had been ignored at first, but Harry had returned to the bush when the sun began to set and it became clear that they weren't going to find a plant they could identify.

Snape relented as Harry continued picking through the bush. There were some animal tracks around the plant, which hopefully meant the berries were edible. "Limit it to a handful. I'd rather you got sick on a small amount than the pickings of the whole bush."

Harry wanted to argue, his stomach was still growling, but he knew it was better to be safe than sorry. He grabbed one last berry and followed Snape back to their cave.

* * *

Harry twisted onto his other side with a sound of disgust. He couldn't fall asleep even though his body ached with exhaustion. The humid air seemed to press in on him and he had opened the front of his robes in an attempt to release some of the pressure. Snape, lying less than an arm's length away, had dozed off hours ago, his good arm tucked under his head. Harry could barely see him, the canopy blocked as much moonlight as it did sunlight.

He rolled back, flinging one hand out. 'Don't squish!' a little voice hissed. Harry froze. "What?"

"Don't squish!" it repeated. Harry squinted through the darkness. Coiled up next to his hand, he could just barely make out a small snake.

"Hello," Harry greeted hesitantly, realizing he had automatically switched to parseltongue.

The snake uncoiled slightly. "Hears me?" It sounded slightly shocked.

"Yes."

"Bouts time," it huffed. "Big things never sees me, always squishing. Never looks down, always with heads in clouds and squishing me. Calls me evil--" The rant continued as the snake slithered off into the darkness. Harry listened until the voice faded out, then his amusement bubbled over. He quietly laughed, his earlier tension dissipating into the air. He finally fell asleep, dreaming of strange little snakes.

A few feet away, the air above Snape's black leather bag shimmered and another parchment appeared.


	7. Chapter 7

_Quick question guys, is there any way to easily respond to reviews? I get the impression that replies put in the stories are no longer allowed, which is what was done when I posted here years ago... Or do I just have to hunt down emails? _

**Breakfast**

Something wet trickled down Harry's cheek. He made a half-hearted swipe at it then rolled onto his stomach, sleepily trying to burrow into the sheets.

Only the sheets smelled suspiciously like dirt. Dirt? Harry propped himself up on his elbows and squinted at what he was lying on. He wasn't wrong, it was dirt. Deep, rich, black dirt that looked like it would be ideal for gardening. He should know, he did all the gardening at the Dursley's.

Harry located his glasses and slipped them on as he sat up. No, it hadn't been a weird dream. He really was stranded in a forest with Professor Snape, trying to complete some sort of Trials. More wetness rolled down his face, and recalling that was what had awoken him, Harry wiped it off then looked at his fingers. Water. He was covered in dew. He experimentally shook his head then frowned as a few drops slid off his hair and landed on the lenses of his glasses.

Speaking of dew, Snape was also covered in it. Droplets of water dotted his robes and hung in the long strands of his hair, glinting in the shafts of sunlight that streamed into their shelter. It was almost, dare he say it, pretty. Eww. He did not just think Snape was pretty. He must have smacked his head harder that he'd thought.

His stomach growled and, with a great sense of relief, Harry turned his attention to food. The yellow berries hadn't made him sick and at the moment, they sounded like the perfect thing to take the edge off of his hunger. Silently, he stood to go out and pick some, only to pause and glance back down at Snape.

The older man didn't look so good. He had a pale cast to his skin and, even in sleep, his features were pinched from the pain in his shoulder. He looked vulnerable, a description that Harry had trouble applying to the Professor despite the evidence in front of him.

For the first time, Harry paused and objectively considered their situation. They had only completed one of the trails and already both of them had been injured. Was this to be the norm for each trial they faced? Would they be given a chance to heal or would they have to jump feet first into whatever came next, despite their injuries?

Harry sighed and pushed his worrying aside. The situation was far out of his control and the only thing that he could do was hang on and take care of the things that were under his power to influence. So he was left with gathering food and being quiet so Snape could rest as long as possible. Yes, he could easily do both of those.

Feeling better for having a plan of action, Harry turned to the black leather bag to grab a spare shopping bag. He planned to use it to carry the berries in.

He pulled up short; another parchment was set on top of the bag.

Despite the urge to pretend it didn't exist, Harry picked it up. He'd rather know what was next than find himself in the middle of another trial without knowing it. He retrieved the spare bag while stubbornly avoiding the Gathering Ring and stepped outside the shelter.

With one dirt stained finger, Harry broke the seal and opened it. Sunlight glittered off the same blue writing as before. "To travel the first step on any path, one must first find it. Seek guidance from those who know the way."

Harry groaned in disgust, it was another riddle. He hated riddles, they reminded him of the Tri-Wizard Tournament and losing Cedric. Harry swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. Best not to go there, the last thing he needed to do was sink into a depressive funk that would get on Snape's nerves.

Folding up the parchment, Harry stuck it in a pocket and resolutely headed to the berry bush. He was going to get breakfast. He'd deal with everything else later. When he wasn't on the verge of tears.

* * *

Harry returned with yellow stained fingers and a decent harvest of berries to find an irritated Snape. The man was seated cross-legged on the ground just in front of their shelter, back leaning awkwardly against one of the large tree roots. Harry also saw that the glint in Snape's eyes was slightly darker and more pronounced than usual.

"Where, pray tell, did you disappear too?" Snape snarled.

Oh great, he was in trouble, surprise, surprise. Harry held up the bag of berries. "I was picking breakfast," he explained, his tone mildly sarcastic.

Snape glared, the muscles in his jaw jumping as he visibly fought to keep control of his temper. "Potter," he grounded out at last, "don't ever do that again."

Harry's ire steadily rose. All he had done was let Snape sleep while gathering berries. It wasn't like there was anyone else around, and even if there was, Merlin knew that he'd taken care of himself long enough to manage walking around in broad daylight! "Do what?" he demanded. "I was gone less than half an hour and there's no one else here!"

Snape abruptly moved to rise to his feet, only to freeze and suck in a deep breath as a wave of pain contorted his features.

Harry winced, torn between being sympathetic about the pain and being thankful that it seemed to have stopped Snape's tirade in its tracks.

Forcing himself to be calm, Snape adjusted his sling and continued his scolding from his spot on the ground. "This place may be uninhabited but that does not lessen the risk of wandering out alone. You could have fallen into an underground cave or been victim to one of a hundred other possibilities and I would have had no clue where to find you."

That made sense, unfortunately. Harry nodded his head in guilty understanding and silently chastised himself for doing something so stupid. He knew better.

Snape's tone softened slightly. "Wake me up next time, understood?"

"Yes, Professor," Harry promised and since the lecture seemed to be at an end, he sat down next to Snape, offering the bag.

Dubiously eyeing the contents, Snape selected a few and tried them. Harry waited for a snide comment, but after a few seconds realized none was going to be forthcoming.

They finished the bag in silence.

Harry licked his fingers clean; his expression thoughtful as he stared at the yellow stained fabric of the bag. "We're going to be competing in these trials for a while, aren't we?"

It was a long moment before Snape answered. "I believe so-- yes. I recall reading about trials in a colleague's research on ancient potion making practices in coming of age rituals. Most trials were initiations into adulthood that lasted two to three months."

Snape frowned. "However, considering the number of skeletons we have discovered, it seems probable that these trials are for something far more dangerous and valuable than recognition into adulthood."

Harry allowed that to digest for a moment. "So we're going to be here months, maybe years, if we don't get killed first?"

"Most likely."

"Ah." Well, that was fabulous news. Harry felt vaguely queasy and slumped against a tree root. He wasn't sure what was worse, spending all that time with only Snape for company or being away from his friends for that long.

There was a rustle of movement in one of the trees and Harry looked up to see a pale blue bird shuffle sideways along a sturdy branch. It looked like a small parrot. Harry shifted for a better look but was distracted by the crinkle of parchment in his pocket. Realizing he'd forgotten about the next challenge, he pulled it out and gave it to Snape. "It appeared sometime last night," he explained. "I found it on your bag."

Snape unfolded it slowly. "Those who know the way," he mused quietly. "It implies that there are others here, yet everything we have seen so far indicates otherwise." Snape scowled and reread it again; he was missing something.

"Maybe we should follow the stream," Harry suggested. "If there's anyone else here, we'd be more likely to encounter signs of them if they have to use the water."

Snape arched an eyebrow but took the suggestion without argument. "A reasonable assumption," he said as he slowly climbed to his feet with a small grunt of pain. "Let's head downstream; if it flows into a river or lake we might find some form of settlement."

It was an optimistic plan of action, especially with the abandoned skeletons testifying to a lack of civilization, but it was better than nothing. Harry retrieved their black bag and they began the first of many days of walking.

_A/N Thanks for the reviews! I enjoy knowing what parts you guys liked and learning about the parts that don't quite work right, it makes me a better writer. There are at least five more trials that I have planned at the moment and Claire will definitely be explained._

_"Tonks is Cool" -awesome review, I've been thinking about what you said about the destruction of Hogsmeade etc being over the top. With the way I wrote it, it does come off that way, I'll try to rewrite it so it works better. I tend not to see Hogwarts, Hogsmead, Diagon Alley etc as the only wizard school, town etc in Britain. Hogwarts always struck me as a school for the elite in popularity, money (Harry, Draco) or in terms of talent (Weasleys, Hermione). If Hogwarts was the only school in Britain, the number of students just don't seem to support a healty wizard population, and that's not even considering pureblood issues. So I've always considered Hogsmeade and Hogwarts as one of many, schools and towns. For Voldemort to destroy the elite school and it's neighboring town, is not so much about random terror (though that's a part) it's about demonstrating power, of overpowering his enemies and removing any power they had, down to the very town that supported the functioning of the school. I guess I see Voldemort's actions as a warning/example to other schools and towns to submit to his power or face the consequencess. _


	8. Chapter 8

**Cravings and Claire: Part 1**

Harry craved meat. A hamburger or baked chicken, pork chops or bacon, it didn't matter as long as it was meat. He'd had nothing but fruit, nuts, berries and roots since they'd arrived and he quite simply couldn't stand it anymore. He craved meat. Almost as much as he craved killing Snape - but that was another matter entirely.

As it was, he was more than willing to settle with killing one of the many birds that fluttered in the trees, or one of the rabbits that always seemed to be underfoot. Harry wasn't too sure if that's exactly what they were. Their fur was a dark green and their body structure was made of sharp angels instead of curves but they looked close enough to rabbits that he wasn't going to bother with being picky about what to call them.

Harry sighed, then selected another rock from the pile at his feet and positioned it in his sling. He'd made the sling from strips of cloth torn from one of his school robes and a piece of leather from Snape's potion supplies. Snape had absently suggested he should try using a sling after his attempts at throwing stones had resulted in running rabbits instead of dead ones. He just didn't throw hard enough to make a killing blow, but according to Snape, a sling packed more than enough force to get the job done. That was, once he had figured out how to balance the rock within the fold of leather and release the string at the right point in the spin to hit his target.

Forcing himself to focus, Harry concentrated on his next throw. The rock flew wide of the large, white fruit he'd set on a tree root as a target. The miss didn't disappoint him; in fact, it was quite encouraging. At least it was in the same direction as his target. When he'd first starting practicing, stones had flown every which way before he'd figured out how to release the strings. Snape had quickly taken to sitting on the far side of a tree, safely out of the line of fire.

Snape. Harry heaved a sigh and selected another rock. The man was the bane of his existence. It wasn't like it was bad enough that he was stranded with his most hated professor. Oh no not in the slightest. Said professor had also decided that Harry was going to continue his education. One on one tutoring in every subject. Well, except for Divination. Snape had sneered at the Divination book and promptly used it for fire starter.

Harry smiled at that memory. That had been a good day. He had unknowingly found a large piece of flint in his search for slinging rocks. The flint had bounced across the ground after he had missed the target, striking other rocks and sending sparks into the air. It had been immensely satisfying to rip pages out of the book and watch them catch alight as Snape struck the flint against another rock. Take that Professor Trelawney. He'd never understood why she constantly prophesized his death, especially when she was proven wrong time and again.

Even Snape had been in a good mood that day, their clothes finally dry after weeks of continual dampness. Lately though, the man was as prickly as a porcupine. He usually woke up agitated and would set a killer pace most of the morning as they tried to find the mysterious 'those who know the way.' Harry had quickly learned that conversation in the morning was a bad idea, it usually led to an argument. And by argument he meant shouting matches where they both lost their tempers.

In the afternoons, when they had stopped for the night, Snape was relentless with Harry's studies, accepting nothing less than perfection. Harry couldn't simply memorize the information, he had to understand it. Snape's in-depth question and answer sessions never failed to uncover any weak spots he had with the material. Harry was silently thankful that the lack of magic prevented him from practical application of his studies. With Snape looming over him, he wouldn't have been able to do any of it correctly.

He ruthlessly ignored the small voice that said he sometimes enjoyed the intellectual debates with Snape.

It was during the study times that Harry missed Ron and Hermione the most. Sometimes he could almost hear Hermione's excited voice as she went off on a tangent or see Ron's exasperated roll of eyes as he waited for her to finish. Depressed with the situation, Harry slung another rock and watched as it smacked into a tree trunk, tearing out a hunk of bark.

"Potter! Move it!"

Harry sighed and pocketed his sling. Time to begin another day of pointless walking.

* * *

Harry glanced upwards at the faint stream of sunlight that made its through the canopy, trying to gauge how much longer he had to walk before Snape called it a day. He had plans to confront the man about his arm. Snape had gained some of his mobility back and had quit wearing the sling but he still hadn't the strength to lift more that a small rock. Harry had begun to worry about that; he should have healed by now. Various magical remedies usually took care of muscle problems. Muggles used physical therapy. Harry was sure Snape wouldn't agree to muggle therapy but something needed to be done.

Harry was actually quite familiar with some of the exercises used in physical therapy. During the few times the Dursleys had allowed him out of the house over the summer, he'd gone to the library searching for books on strengthening exercises he could do when he was confined to his room. It had been hard for him to get back in shape for the Quidditch season after the previous summer and Harry wasn't about to be caught unprepared again. Between books on yoga, meditation and quick weight loss schemes, Harry had found books on physical therapy. Out of curiosity he had checked out a few and had quickly incorporated many of the exercises into his daily routine. The exercises had strengthened his muscles without giving him the extra bulk that would have hampered his flying.

He was sure that the exercises would help Snape. He was just going to have to convince the surly man that he was right. Harry sighed and focused on keeping up with Snape's killer pace.

All in all, they had been walking for four weeks. The plan to walk downstream had ended with the stream plunging off of a huge cliff into the dense forest below. Unable to find a safe way down and unwilling to leave their only familiar landmark, Snape and Harry had then headed upstream. A few days later they encountered the same problem, only they were at the bottom of another cliff instead of at its top. Harry had taken advantage of the mini waterfall that the stream made to take a shower. Snape had watched him for a moment with glittering black eyes before angrily stalking out of sight. At least Harry had assumed that it was anger. Sometimes it was hard to tell what was going through Snape's head.

From there they had finally left the stream and headed east, following the base of the cliff and hoping for an opening. Instead, the base had slowly curved towards them, eventually leading them back to the drop-off where the stream plunged below. They had waded across the stream and continued along the edge only to arrive back at the base of another cliff. It was like traveling along the edge of a circle, half of it made of cliff towering overhead and half made of cliff dropping off below. Either way, there appeared to be no way out of their large enclosure. They saw no signs of life unless one counted the occasional skeleton.

Harry estimated that they would be back at the waterfall within two or three more days of hiking. He didn't bother asking Snape what they were going to do next. He really didn't have the energy to care, not when he was craving meat and worried about how he was going to make Snape cooperate with him about the physical therapy.

Harry shifted the weight of Snape's bag to his other shoulder, bowed his head and narrowed his thoughts to following Snape's footsteps.

* * *

"No lessons tonight."

Harry blankly looked at Snape from his spot on the ground where he'd been digging a shallow hole to build the fire in. Snape slowly knelt beside him with an armful of firewood, the movements graceful despite the exhaustion that clung to him.

"Why not?"

Snape arched a disbelieving eyebrow as he began arranging the firewood. "I must be loosing my hearing. Did I just hear Harry Potter ask why we're not having lessons?"

Harry snorted in denial and dropped the question. A night off would be good. It wasn't like they couldn't discuss the Goblin Wars tomorrow.

One of the larger pieces of wood that Snape had collected rolled off the pile. Snape grabbed it with his injured right arm and visibly winced as the small weight was more than his shoulder could handle.

For Harry it was the perfect opportunity. Feeling like he was about to walk into a dragon's den, he commented softly, "That should have healed by now."

Snape shot him a dark look that relayed his opinion on the astuteness of Harry's observation abilities then went back to rubbing his shoulder. "There is nothing that can be done about it. I have not the ingredients nor the equipment to make the necessary healing potions."

"I know," Harry answered. "But there are other options. Like physical therapy."

Harry waited for the expected sneer or the sarcastic remark. Slytherins were renowned for their dislike of muggles and Harry expected nothing less from the Head of Slytherin House.

Snape, however, was studying him thoughtfully. "What do you know about muggle healing practices?"

Wondering if he was walking into a trap, Harry shrugged one shoulder. "I know a little, a few therapy exercises. At the very least I could give your shoulder a rub down, that might help the muscles loosen up and heal."

Snape didn't answer right away. Instead he pulled out the flint and took his time lighting the fire. Harry was perplexed. Snape wasn't vehemently opposed to the idea like he had originally thought he would be, yet he seemed unwilling to agree to it as well. What was going on?

Snape fiddled with the fire some more then shifted from kneeling to a more comfortable sitting position. "Very well," he said and waited.

It took Harry a moment to realize that Snape was giving him permission to try working with his shoulder. Harry wondered at if that meant that his shoulder had been bothering him more than the older man had let on.

Harry shifted so he was kneeling behind Snape and wondered where he should begin. Like Harry, Snape had quit wearing his robes and had eventually resorted to wearing only his long sleeved shirt and pants in concession to the heat and humidity. Harry would have probably run around shirtless if it wasn't for the bugs that insisted on eating him every time he was away from the fire. He had just assumed that Snape kept his shirt on for the same reason.

It wasn't until Harry laid the palms of his hands against Snape's shoulders that he realized he'd never seen the man shirtless. The fabric was thick and Harry was unsure if he would be able to work with it in the way. "I need you to take this off."

Muscles bunched under Harry's hands and he wondered if Snape was uneasy about something, maybe the brand on his arm. "I know about the Death Eater mark," he offered hesitantly.

Snape didn't answer and Harry shifted trying to get a look at Snape's face. The man shook his head once, harshly, then unbuttoned his shirt and removed it, the actions mechanical as if he was trying not to think about what he was doing.

Harry's eyes automatically fell on the brand, which was a harsh gray against the pale backdrop of Snape's white skin. It didn't bother him like he thought it would have. But it was what was lying across the rest of Snape's body that made Harry pause. Black jagged lines crisscrossed Snape's back, some arching along the curve of ribs, others racing up his spine only to spread over his shoulders and run down his arms, ending just above his elbows.

They were the scars that marked a person as having suffered under one of the Unforgivable Curses. A scar for every time a curse was endured. Harry felt nauseous. Snape's scars were too numerous to count.

Snape's back was stiff, his shoulders rigid, clearly waiting for Harry to question or make some comment that would cause offense no matter which way it was phrased. Snape would not want offerings of sympathy or pity either. So Harry did the only thing he could think of. He said nothing and began rubbing Snape's shoulder, refusing to flinch at the feel of the ridged scars beneath his hands.

_Replies_

_Lovelace's Amarantha: I guess you can post replies in stories. I hunted around but the only thing I found concerned authors notes. Knowing me, I probably got confused with the rules from another site :-)_


	9. Chapter 9

**Cravings and Claire: Part 2**

Harry greeted the dawn with silence. There was something about the start of a new day, a feeling of promise, in which anything could be considered or any problem solved. It was a moment of peace before the concerns of the day crowded in.

He was lying on his back, a spare robe balled under his head, his hands lightly folded on his stomach. He'd been awake all night, unable to sleep. It wasn't a restlessness like their first night here, when he was hot and uncomfortable and too tense to sleep. This was different, an intense awareness coupled with a quiet energy that had made sleep a distant thought. He'd spent the night passively experiencing whatever sensation that caught his senses; the feeling of damp earth sinking through his clothes, the play of moonlight across the leaves, the soothing sound of Snape's quiet, even breathing.

Shifting to his side, Harry quietly studied the back that was turned to him. Snape slept deeply, the tension in his shoulder having finally found some release under Harry's hands.

Harry gently clenched his hands into fists, the feeling of Snape's scars still lingering on his palms. The scars bothered him, raised questions he wasn't sure he had the nerve to ask Snape. Scarring from the Unforgivable Curses was rare, as it occurred under only two known instances. The first instance he laid claim to, as the scarring was the result of surviving Avada Kedavra. The second instance was torture. Spells were cast on the tortured so that their skin kept a running tab of the curses endured.

Harry was troubled, not so much by the scars themselves, but by the fact that he wanted to know more about them. He wanted to know when Snape had been tortured, what offence he had committed to receive such a harsh punishment from Voldemort.

Or was it something worse, like a ritual of pain inflection, where Death Eaters endured the curses to prove their loyalty and wore their scars as badges of honor? Was that why Snape still carried his? The healing potion to heal the scars was complicated but surely not outside of Snape's skill range.

After pondering the situation for a while longer, Harry decided to put the matter aside. He could speculate all he wanted, but only Snape could share the truth with him. And that was the crux of the matter, was it not? He wanted Snape to open up to him, to show him something else besides the teacher façade that he continually wore. The man was like trying to peak at the confines of a locked box. Until the lid was open, the contents could only be guessed at.

Harry wanted in.

Sighing softly to himself, Harry decided to get some sleep before they were on the move again. Without thinking, he shifted closer to Snape, spooning up behind the older man. Only then, did he fall asleep.

* * *

The unmistakable sensation of being watched pulled Harry from the clutches of his dreams. Unsure if he was in danger, Harry cautiously cracked open one eye, only to start as he realized he was face to face with Snape.

"What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?" Harry grumbled as he rubbed a hand over his face, his tone lacking the venom that one would usually expect from such a sentence.

Snape said nothing but amusement danced in his dark eyes.

Harry shook his head in exasperation, wondering about this playful side of Snape, then decided that if Snape wasn't in a hurry to get moving then he had no complaints.

They laid there for a while longer and Harry took the opportunity to really look at his Potions master. He had always thought Snape ugly, slimy… but he was beginning to rethink that initial description. Not that Snape was anywhere close to what Harry would call handsome, there was nonetheless a powerful strength to Snape's presence that Harry found alluring.

Snape raised an eyebrow at the scrutiny. "What Potter?"

Momentarily dropping his gaze, Harry's eyes landed on one jagged scar peeking from underneath Snape's shirt collar, which was unbuttoned for the first time Harry could remember.

He glanced at Snape's face, trying to gauge the man's mood. There was something unguarded in his expression, something open, and that gave Harry the courage to inquire about the scars.

The answer was unexpected. "Aurors," Snape said simply.

Stunned, Harry's jaw dropped. "Auror's? But I thought --"

"That Voldemort did this?" Snape laughed but there was no amusement in the sound. "Hardly. Voldemort tortures others to get what he wants or kills them to keep them from becoming a nuisance. He usually doesn't bother with entertainment torture, with the exception of Pettigrew, as it takes time away from his plans to rule the world."

Harry absorbed that insight on Voldemort. "Then why did the Aurors torture you?"

"They thought we deserved it," Snape said flatly.

Harry stared at Snape, barely restraining the vindictive, juvenile voice at the back of his mind from asking if Snape did deserve it. That was not something he needed …or really wanted to know.

There was a moment of uneasy silence. Harry decided that since he had opened this can of worms, he might as well see what else he could dig up.

"Why didn't you have the scars removed?"

"Why haven't you had yours removed?" Snape immediately countered.

Harry hesitantly rubbed the lightning shaped scar that graced his forehead, feeling the slight ridge of flesh. Why hadn't he had it removed?

"Because," he said slowly, "it's part of who I am." Removing it would be denying a core part of who he was.

"Exactly," Snape said, grunting as he sat up, one hand briefly rubbing his shoulder. "Enough of the small talk, we need to get --"

"My parents lost me," a hesitant voice interrupted.

Snape and Harry exchanged shocked looks then jumped to their feet, their discussion forgotten. "Claire?" They called, wildly searching and seeing no one.

There was a rustling of leaves above and they both looked up. A pale blue parrot shuffled along a limb, eyeing them carefully.

"Hey," Harry said, recognizing the bird from when they'd received their second challenge, "I've seen that bird before."

"So have I," Snape said as he studied the bird. "A few times in fact."

The parrot cocked its head to the side. "My parents lost me," it repeated with the unsure air of a being that knows they are missing the other half of the sentence.

"Claire!" Harry yelled in recognition.

The parrot excitedly fluttered its wings. "My name is Claire and my parents lost me," it--she--recited happily at remembering the whole sentence.

"She was turned into a parrot!" Harry exclaimed.

"No," Snape disagreed, instinctually knowing that that wasn't the case. "I think she always was a parrot."

At seeing Harry's confused frown, Snape continued, "Remember when we questioned her on the way to the Lost and Found? What were her answers?"

Harry's eyes lit with understanding. "The exact same sentence every time, repetitive just like a parrot."

"Exactly. No child is that repetitive. There is also the fact that the trials only recognized two people as competing. Whatever magic that controls the trials must have removed the spells on Claire when it removed our wands. She must have flown off before we woke up."

The reasoning made perfect sense to Harry, which left him with only one question. "Who would want to go through all that trouble of transfiguring a bird to use it to bind us?"

They both glanced at Snape's bag which laid innocently on the ground. The Gathering Ring was hidden at the bottom, wrapped in one of Harry's spare school robes. The Ring had been a taboo subject, the kind of thing that lurked in the shadows and was never discussed, even though it constantly weighed on the mind.

Snape swallowed. "I don't know," he admitted and turned his head away.

And just like that the Ring was pushed back into the shadows from which it had been momentarily drug, left to wait for the time when it could no longer be escaped.

Harry looked up at Claire, seeking a diversion. "So what do we do with her now?"

"Leave her," Snape said as he picked up his shoulder bag and handed it to Harry, ready to move on.

The automatic protest died on Harry's lips as his brain caught up with the situation. It wasn't like they could catch her and she was obviously finding food since she was still alive. They had already seen her a couple of times, it was likely that she'd just keep following them.

Harry shouldered the bag and busied himself with following Snape.

* * *

They made it to the waterfall in two days like Harry had predicted, then spent the next two weeks camped near its base. They were at a loss as to where to go next and it seemed pointless to wander through the wilderness trying to find some clue that would help them out. Claire had followed them and was quickly learning some new words when she decided to visit -- much to the amusement and annoyance of Harry and Snape.

Her first new word was 'Potter', which she had quickly picked up from Snape. Only Claire didn't say his name once, she chanted it, often reaching a screeching pitch that drove Harry nuts. Snape just smirked in amusement.

In retaliation, Harry taught her to say 'Snape' in a singsong voice, which quickly became her favorite word. She often alternated between the two names, which led to her learning another sentence. 'Shut up Claire.'

Harry was thankful that she didn't hang around too much.

When they weren't being aggravated by Claire, doing therapy, searching for food, or studying, Harry practiced with his sling while Snape brooded over their challenge.

Harry got in a lot of practice. So much that he decided to try his luck with killing one of the green rabbits.

They had hiked an hour away from their camp to gather food and had stopped for a break before returning. Snape lightly dozed in the shade of a tree and Harry took the opportunity to wait for some rabbits to show up.

He wasn't disappointed. After a few minutes of silence, two wandered into a small patch of sunlight, seeking the few grasses that grew there.

Feeling slightly nervous, Harry slowly stood up and positioned a rock in his sling. The rabbits continued eating, unaware that the foreign sound of the sling cutting through air was dangerous.

Deciding that it was now or never, Harry released the rock and watched as it slammed into the head of the larger rabbit. The other dashed off into the brush, following some invisible path that only it knew. Running forward, Harry's yell of triumph died when he realized that the kill hadn't been a clean one. The rabbit was twitching, its movements grotesque as it tried to hang on to life. It reminded him of someone twisting under the Cruciatus curse.

Harry stood above it, feeling horror, guilt and disgust at what he had done. For a moment he wished none of it had happened, only to realize that by letting the animal suffer, he was torturing it. Panicking, he grabbed the nearest rock and brought it down, hard. The rabbit stilled.

It took Harry a few moments to realize that Snape was standing beside him. Snape gently pulled him to his feet and quietly knocked the rock that he still clutched from his hand.

"You did the right thing," Snape said, purposely twisting Harry around so he no longer see the rabbit.

Harry swallowed the lump in his throat. "I … yeah," he agreed unconvincingly.

"Harry," Snape said and waited until Harry looked him in the eye. "You did the right thing," he repeated, stressing each word.

This time the words began to sink in and Harry nodded as he took a few cleansing breaths, letting the twisting in his stomach die down.

Snape waited until Harry had himself under control before he turned his attention back to the rabbit. "We need to take care of this before it attracts scavengers."

Harry blankly looked at the rabbit and realized that he had no clue what to do with it after he had killed it. Sure, he knew that it needed to be gutted and skinned, he just had no idea how one went about the process.

Snape, however, didn't seem to be at such a loss. He picked the rabbit up by its hind legs and walked over to his bag, which he had left under the tree. He dug through it and retrieved a case that contained knives used for potions work. Snape opened it, selected a knife then set the case aside.

Harry watched with a mix of disgusted fascination and surprise as Snape gutted the rabbit with expert hands then began skinning it. "Where did you learn to do that?"

Snape didn't look up from his work. "It's a necessary skill for all Potions masters. There are a variety of ingredients that have to be harvested fresh to retain their magical elements."

He glanced up at Harry. "Go start a fire. I'd rather cook it and eat it here instead of carrying it back to camp."

Harry quickly complied, relieved that Snape was willing to take care of the rabbit himself.

* * *

The rabbit was good, once Harry managed to force the first few bites down his throat. It was a bit stringy, tough, but it fulfilled his meat craving.

Harry slowly licked his fingers clean, his gaze unwavering as he watched Snape stare at the second challenge. The parchment was worn, stained with fingerprints and torn in places from Snape's constant handling. Harry had his doubts to its surviving intact for much longer. And besides, Snape need a break from it.

"Give me the parchment."

Snape's head jerked up and puzzled eyes focuses on Harry, having clearly missed Harry's last words. That's when Harry knew without a doubt that Snape needed a break. The man usually never missed anything that was said around him.

Holding out a hand, Harry said, "Let me see it."

Snape handed over the parchment and Harry quickly folded it up and stashed it in a pocket.

"What are you doing?" Snape demanded.

Harry thought about being aggravating by stating the obvious but instead decided that honesty was the best course of action. "You're getting nowhere, give it a break," he said gently. "Take a step back and leave it alone for awhile."

Snape opened his mouth to argue, realized that he didn't have a leg to stand on, and had to settle with glaring at Harry. When that didn't work, he finally relented and slouched against a tree, his arms crossed.

Smothering a smile, Harry went about kicking dirt on the fire. Snape almost looked like a petulant child. He wondered what Ron and Hermione would say to that.

At the thought of his friends, Harry sobered and wondered how they were doing.

"Do you think they're still searching for us?" he asked.

Shaking his head, Snape picked up his bag. "I doubt they even know we're missing."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean?"

Sighing, Snape began making his way back to camp. "Time usually moves differently in trials. It's likely that while days pass for us, only minutes or hours pass in the real world."

That was disturbing. It reminded Harry of the time the Dursleys lost him in the market when he was six. No one had noticed he was missing then either.

* * *

Days passed and it was with some sadness that Harry realized they had been in the Trials for a little over two months.

They were on the move again, following the cliffs but this time at much slower pace, looking for subtle clues that might hint at someone being there. They had little hope of actually finding anyone.

It was early morning, barely after dawn, and Harry was quietly sitting cross-legged on a large tree root, waiting for Snape to wake. The man was still asleep, lying between the roots up against the base of the tree. It amused Harry to no end that he was the early riser. Sleeping in was such a 'human' thing for Snape to do. Harry was beginning to realize that there was more to the man than just being a Potions master, teacher, and spy for Dumbledore.

Harry enjoyed what he was beginning to think of as his early morning watches. There was something comfortable and even reassuring about being up and on the look out. It was … empowering and he was beginning to feel like he was on more even ground with Snape.

He often entertained himself by watching the wildlife that moved around them; usually birds, insects, and of course, the rabbits. Harry had made peace with that first awkward kill and had even killed a few more without mishap.

The rabbits were quirky characters and when they weren't playing and eating in the small patches of sunlight that made it through the canopy, they traveled in-groups. This was the behavior that Harry found strange. It wasn't the fact that they traveled together, but that there seemed to be a strict order to it. They moved in a line, almost like a game of follow the leader, as they moved through the underbrush following whatever invisible animal paths that only they could see.

Paths.

Harry's eyes widened. It couldn't be.

He jumped up and shook Snape awake. "I've got an idea," he said when Snape protested at the wakeup.

* * *

The rabbits led them on a merry chase, winding around the trees in a chaotic way that seemed senseless and designed to disappoint. Harry and Snape had nothing to lose so they stuck with it, following the rabbits for hours until they disappeared single file into a hole at the base of the cliff. The hole wasn't very big, covered with brush and hidden by a jut of rock from the cliff. They could have walked by it a dozen times and would have never noticed it.

Harry dropped to his knees and peered inside. At the other end he could see sunlight and a distinct road made of rock.

"It goes through and there's a road," he told Snape. Hope rising, Harry pulled out the challenge which he had refused to return to Snape. The blue ink was running, changing to form one word. 'Correct.' The parchment then crumbled to dust, seemingly relieved at no longer having to exist.

Harry looked into the hole again. The tunnel was a tight squeeze but it looked manageable. He looked up at Snape. "We're going to have to pull ourselves on our stomachs to get through."

Snape waved a hand at the hole, indicating for Harry to go first. His expression was serious but Harry could tell he was relieved at finally having the second challenge solved.

Harry paused just before he went in. "Down the rabbit hole," he mumbled to himself. "At least there's no white rabbit."

"What are you going on about?" Snape looked bewildered.

"Alice in Wonderland," Harry prompted.

"Who is that?"

Harry grinned. "It's a book, you'll have to read it when we get back."

Snape just arched an eyebrow.

Still grinning, Harry dropped to his stomach and using mainly elbows and hands, made his way into the tunnel. He was about halfway through when the tunnel narrowed some more, squeezing his shoulders. He tried to push his way through, squirmed, tried to slide back then came to a horrifying realization.

"I'm stuck!"

_Replies: Thanks for the reviews! I'm glad I'm intriguing some people :-D_

_Lovelace's Amarantha: LOL Not quite yet. Sexy'__s looking to be several chapters down the road._

_Dragonfly7: Not really. The book shapes their surrounds according to what it thinks is needed for each trial. As Severus and Harry move through more trials, their surroundings will change according to what is needed. For this trial, the book needed to corral them within an area, yet not have them too confined that the answer was easily obvious. _

_Wynter Ravenheart: Nope, too obvious. Harry talking with the snake will play out in another way later on. I think very few people who attempted the Trials would be parseltongue so the trial couldn't be dependent on the person being able to speak with the snake._


	10. Chapter 10

**Scares and Ugly Truths: Part One**

Harry waited patiently for a response. There was none. Thinking that Snape hadn't heard him he yelled louder. "Snape! I said I'm stuck!"

More silence followed, broken only by his breathing, which seemed to get louder and quicker as the seconds ticked by.

"Snape?"

Knowing that panicking was useless, Harry tried to wait calmly. But as his continued calls for Snape went unanswered, unease built.

Built, and after long minutes finally reached a breaking point. Where was he? Had something happened? Dumb question. Something must have happened, something bad, otherwise he would have answered Harry's yells. Now worried for an entirely different reason, Harry struggled against the rock, the skin of his fingers scrapped raw as he sought purchase to pull himself free. Wild thoughts spurred him on, thoughts of Snape hurt and bleeding or, Merlin forbid, dying and leaving him.

With his imagination running wild, it was natural that Harry screamed when a hand grabbed his ankle. A high pitched rather girly scream, but a scream nonetheless. He kicked out frantically but the narrow tunnel prevented him from kicking the hand free. Another hand latched onto his other ankle and after two harsh tugs, pulled him free, dragging him the few feet back out into the sunlight.

Harry scrambled to his feet, twisting free from whoever had him and fled into the jungle. He had no wand, no weapons besides his sling. Best to escape first and see who he was up against and then --

Harry slammed to a stop. He heard laughter.

It was deep and rich, coming from deep down within someone who was genuinely amused. It was also coming from the direction that he had just run from.

Suddenly suspicious, Harry made his way back. Snape was standing next to the hole, doubled over in laughter.

Harry stared at him, befuddled with a mix of anger and embarrassment.

Snape got enough control of himself to speak. "Your face," he gasped, "your voice," and promptly broke down into laughter again.

Harry stared a moment longer before a grin broke free on his face. Yes, he could very well imagine.

Soon there was the laughter of two voices echoing through the jungle.

* * *

When Ron first awoke, he doubted his sanity.

Above him he had a roof that didn't leak; below, clean sheets over an actual mattress. Curled against his side was his wife, free of the cold grime that had accumulated from living in alleyways and abandoned buildings.

Turning onto his side he gently smoothed a lock of hair away from her face, noting its limp and brittle texture - knowing his was the same. Unhealthy. Last night he had stood in front of the bathroom mirror and counted his ribs. Too many missed meals, too much stress and abuse. The human body could only take so much, go so far before it cried out 'Enough!' and crumbled in on itself. They had been walking a fine line for far too long, teetering on the edge of an abyss that had no safety ropes and offered no second chances.

Ron was tired.

In the light of the early morning sun, he watched Hermione sleep. As always he found strength in her presence, the solidity of her friendship.

Hermione gave a small sigh and pressed her face into the pillow, relishing the feel of clean cloth through the haze of sleep. Ron smiled, taking pleasure in watching so simple a comfort, one their circumstances had long denied.

She dozed for a few minutes more then awoke with a small gasp, disorientated by the familiar yet alien surroundings. Knowing what was going on Ron clasped her hand to his chest, letting her orientate herself.

When she had calmed, Hermione frowned in disgust at her panic. "I can't believe I -"

Ron laid a shushing finger against her lips. "You weren't the only one."

The soft admission brought a gentle smile to her face. "We're quite a pair, aren't we?" she said quietly and unashamedly traced the tip of her finger along a scar that graced Ron's left cheekbone.

He echoed the move, tracing a scar that ran up her chin and split her lower lip. This tracing of scars was almost a ritual between them, an acknowledging of that which others labeled as ugly or pitiful --a way of remembering. Harry had taken no shame in his scar; they would take no shame in theirs.

The moment of quiet broke when Ron's stomach growled.

Hermione arched an amused eyebrow, but experience of true hunger tempered the teasing she once would have indulged in. "They probably serve breakfast at the same time they did during the school year." House elves worked on a schedule and rarely changed it. "We should go down."

Instead of agreeing, Ron seemed to pull into himself. He rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

"What's wrong?" Hermione prodded gently, confused.

His face tightened as if in pain. "Did you see the look on McGonagall's face yesterday?" he asked quietly.

"Oh Ron," Hermione said with a note of exasperation. "Of course she was going to be angry, she --"

"No, not that. It was while you were talking with Professor Binns. Her face, it was," Ron trailed off and looked at her with haunted eyes. "It was as if she had never seen me before."

He paused, a tear slipping down his face. "Have we changed so much?"

Heart twisting, Hermione pulled him closer, drawing his head to her shoulder and wrapping an arm around his waist. She did not answer. Some truths could not be coated with a lie, nor could they be borne when uttered aloud.

* * *

When they had finally dressed and reached the Great Hall, breakfast was already in progress. So was a minor commotion at the head table. There was a man and two teenagers deep in discussion with Dumbledore.

Hermione looked at them blankly as she entered, wondering what students were doing at the school. School did not begin for another week. She was a few feet inside the room when she realized that Ron had stopped inside the doorway. She turned to him, puzzled.

His face had gone pale. "Dad," he whispered, his voice cracking painfully.

Hermione nearly groaned aloud, suddenly realizing that the two teenagers were their younger versions. She should have expected this, of course Mr. Weasley would have contacted Dumbledore before anyone else when Harry went missing. Dumbledore must have somehow managed to put them off yesterday and they had now come seeking answers.

Hermione yanked her hood up, aware on the periphery of her vision that Ron was doing the same. They both continued into the Hall, stopping several paces behind their younger counterparts.

"Headmaster," the young Ron was protesting, "Harry just disappears into thin air and all you have to say is that it was planned? If it was he would have told us something, some hint -"

"Ron." Mr. Weasley laid a hand on his son's shoulder, the firm squeeze silencing Ron. As a father, Mr. Weasley was fairly laid back, usually possessing a mischievous nature that also showed up in his children. As an employee of the Ministry, he had an intimate understanding of the need for secrets and was well versed in reading the shadowy bits of information that could grace conversations.

"I'm sure the Headmaster has his reasons and that Harry is in good hands, whose ever they may be," Mr. Weasley said neutrally.

Dumbledore, wise to what was going on, nodded innocently and selected a lemon drop from a small box next to his glass. "Indeed, I can definitely assure you that Harry is in the most capable of hands at the moment." His eyes briefly flickered to the right, perhaps unintentionally, where further down the table there was an empty chair, the one that usually seated the school's Potions master. Harry was with Snape.

"I know that this is most upsetting," Dumbledore continued kindly, looking at the teenagers, "but there really is nothing that either of you can do at the moment. When the situation changes and Harry is able to return, I promise I will let you both know immediately."

Dumbledore then snapped close the lid of the lemon drop box, snapped it with a finality that seemed to grow to giant proportions as the sound echoed through the eerily silent Hall. His eyes flickered over the teenagers and then settled warningly on Mr. Weasley, the message clear. Keep them out of this, or it will be their lives.

"Thank you Headmaster," Mr. Weasley said, the thanks echoing on two levels. "We'll be waiting at the Burrow if anything changes."

The teenagers looked at both the Headmaster and Mr. Weasley as if they had lost their minds and moved as if to press the issue. Hermione took that opportunity to head to the table and take a seat on Dumbledore's left, Ron following behind her, both knowing that they looked ominous in their dark robes. As expected, the young Ron and Hermione silenced immediately. They had no idea who the strangers were and would not risk saying anything that could bring more trouble to Harry. Even Mr. Weasley looked upon them with suspicion, but he took advantage of opportunity to steer their younger versions out of the Hall and towards home.

Ron and Hermione hesitantly pulled their hoods down.

"You know that will not deter them," Hermione said. "If anything, they will be more determined."

"True, but the less information they have, the longer it will take them to find the answers."

"Why didn't you tell them what's going on?" Ron asked.

Dumbledore sighed then glanced at the rest of the teachers. Hermione realized that they must have already had a meeting this morning to discuss what had been found during the night. That knowledge was hurtful, but understandable. Dumbledore had his suspicions that they were not sharing everything and he was correct.

"Let's finish breakfast and continue this discussion in my office with Professor Binns," Dumbledore said quietly.


	11. Chapter 11

**Scares and Ugly Truths: Part Two**

Some things never change with the passage of time, especially the sensation of being in trouble when standing in front of the Headmaster's desk. It was even worse when you knew that you had done something that would be seen as wrong.

Dumbledore seemed to know this as he left them standing, a twinkle of mischief lighting his eyes. Ron was secretly relieved to see that; there was a big difference between just being in trouble and being hated for what you had done.

"Please, don't stay standing on my account," Dumbledore said finally.

They sat in the chairs in front of his desk, declining the offer of lemon drops. For just a moment, Ron could imagine that they were back in school and were being called up for some prank played on the Slytherins. It was a comforting sensation and Ron allowed himself to be caught up in it, seeking a sense of stability in the simplicity of childhood dramas.

The illusion was brief as Professor Binns floated into the office, carrying the Book of Trials. Immediately, the current in the air changed, becoming heavy and dense. Ron and Hermione shifted in their chairs, their postures becoming defensive.

"Professor Binns," Dumbledore greeted, "please take a seat and enlighten our guests about the results of your research."

In atypical style, Binns did what he was told and got straight to the point. It was a little unnerving for Ron who could remember classes where the man had seemed to ramble on forever.

"As I said yesterday the Book of Trials seemed familiar," Binns said. "It actually plays a key part at multiple points in wizard history but has been forgotten by many in mainstream wizard society due to the current upheaval and instability created by You-Know-Who and the struggle to survive unnoticed during the two muggle world wars. As we all know there has always been a huge risk in interaction between muggle and wizard worlds. Distrust and persecution have often erupted against wizards with tragic results for both sides due to unfounded prejudice."

"The Book of Trials," Binns continued, "was apparently developed to ensure that the wizards who wished to publicly use magic in muggle society were capable of such an enormous responsibility. Not only was their muggle knowledge tested, so were their abilities concerning observation, endurance, patience and wisdom. Each of the trials were also designed on a pass or die basis which prevented anyone trying the Trials on a whim."

"Professor," Ron interrupted, "I'm sure this is fascinating, but how do we stop the trials so we can get Harry back?"

It seemed strange to say that Professor Binns looked faint as he was a ghost but he did seem to achieve a degree of paleness beyond his usual see-through white. "Once started the trials cannot be interrupted. They are designed to self destruct if magically tampered with, killing whoever is in it. I'm afraid Professor Snape and Mr. Potter are very much on their own."

The following silence was near absolute, for the first time Ron could clearly hear the ticking of Dumbledore's ancient clock which he had thought dead all the times when he had been a student waiting for his reprimand.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said softly, the words also a dismissal for Binns. The professor nodded and left, leaving the Book of Trials on Dumbledore's desk.

"Professor Dumbledore," Hermione asked quietly, "Professor Binns said that the Trials were a pass or die basis. How many have actually passed all of them?"

"Surviving ancient writings have only recorded three," Dumbledore said gravely, "one of whom which was Merlin."

Three out of a possible hundreds or thousands. Those were not good odds. Ron vigorously rubbed his face with his hands, trying to dispel the nightmare quality that the day had turned into.

"If they succeed," Dumbledore continued, "They will be returned to us. If they fail, the binding of the book will turn black until the Trials are ready for another wizard."

All eyes fell to the book, which was still a pale brown with its dark blue text across the front.

"There is still hope," Dumbledore said quietly. "They are both survivors."

Ron and Hermione nodded automatically but had a little more difficulty in having such faith. Being survivors did not mean that one always survived. Both Snape and Harry had died at Voldemort's hands. It was conceivable that they could succumb to the Trials as well.

"There is something else that we need to discuss," Dumbledore said. "Something that I think none of us fully realized in yesterday's chaos."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances, knowing immediately that the 'us' that Dumbledore spoke of did not include them.

Dumbledore continued, "The teachers and I were so caught up in the novelty that you had dared to attempt to bond Harry and Severus that none of us considered the obvious. Harry and Severus did not willing agree to this bond, did they?"

Damn. Ron had hoped that they could have gone a few more days before that little piece of knowledge was revealed. At a loss for words, he turned to Hermione.

She sighed, a heaving sound that did nothing to relieve the pressure that was pressing down upon her. "No. We couldn't risk them objecting. Harry might have believed us, but we doubted that Professor Snape would give it a second thought before hexing us. We stole a parrot and I transfigured her into a young girl so she would be able to get close enough to both of them. I used her as a medium to cast the bonding rites. It's doubtful they realized what was happening to them."

Dumbledore closed his eyes and sat unmoving in his chair, absorbing the impact of this new information. When he finally opened his eyes, they were deep with sorrow and focused inward, as if Dumbledore was the only one in the office. "I feared as much. I regret ... I regret many things but mostly what life has forced those two to endure."

Ron and Hermione sat in silence, aware of the weight of years.

* * *

Harry shook his head, trying to force the grin from his face. "Seriously though, where were you?"

"I thought you were pulling my leg," Snape admitted. "And when I realized you weren't, well ... you weren't stuck that long."

Harry's eyes narrowed. There was a mischievous glint in Snape's eyes. Snape pulling a prank. That just wasn't possible! Was it? After all, the man had waged a single person war against the Marauders during his school years.

"You!" Harry accused.

That set Snape off again. Grinning, Harry watched Snape laugh and decided that he really liked this side of his Potions professor.

* * *

The narrow tunnel proved to be a challenge all by itself. Knowing that the Trials intended for them to go through it, Harry and Snape resigned themselves to widening it. They tried everything they could get their hands on; sticks and rocks of various types but the tunnel walls often proved harder than their makeshift tools.

Harry bit back a cry of pain as another rock shattered in his hands, pinching a fingernail. The tips of his fingers were black and blue. He was already positive that he was going to lose the cracked thumbnail on his right hand.

After a week of chipping away at the walls, they had only gotten a few feet farther beyond where Harry had first gotten stuck. At the rate they were going it was going to take another week to reach the other side. Maybe that was the point.

Frustrated, Harry squirmed out of the tunnel and tossed the shattered rock against the nearest tree. Claire, who had been dozing in one of the lower branches, squawked at him angrily and few off after an indignant ruffle of feathers.

"Feel better?" Snape asked dryly. He was seated by the fire, roasting a rabbit on a spit for dinner.

"No!" Harry snapped. He folded his arms, suppressing a wince as his fingers throbbed.

Snape merely arched an eyebrow at him.

"Don't look at me like that. This is taking forever!"

"Yes, it is," Snape agreed calmly. He pointed to the dirt next to him. "Sit."

Harry huffed and dropped down beside him, his temper dissipating. He wasn't one to often indulge in such behavior and it never lasted long when he did. Snape said nothing more but slowly turned the spit, ensuring that the rabbit was cooked on all sides.

Harry watched him, slowly becoming mesmerized by the movement of Snape's hands. Snape had graceful hands, steady and sure even though they were now as bruised as Harry's. His fingers were long, but strong and callused, accustomed to work. When Snape would pick something up and examine it, Harry would often find himself unable to do anything but stare.

Realizing he was doing it again, Harry quickly looked for something to distract himself. He was not going to explain to Snape why he was staring at his hands as he honestly wasn't sure why.

At least, that's what he told himself.

He grabbed Snape's bag and pulled it into his lap, planning on pulling out his potion's book. He opened the bag and was immediately confronted by the Gathering Ring, which had somehow ended up on the top of the bag.

Harry stared at it. It was still a vibrant green and red, the strength of the spells undiminished with the passage of time. Spells. Harry frowned. If the Trials had removed the spells on Claire, why hadn't the spells on the Gathering Ring been removed as well?

He looked up to ask Snape then abruptly paused. Things had been going so well. Snape hadn't been very happy about the Ring and the last thing he wanted to do was get him tense again. Harry hesitated, one finger gently tracing the smooth edge of the Ring.

It wasn't like there was anything they could do about it.

No, there was no need to bring this to Snape's attention. Harry carefully moved the Ring to the bottom of the bag and retrieved his potions book.

Some things were just best left alone.

* * *

Harry awoke to cursing.

"Damn it, Harry! Wake up!"

Jerking upright, Harry quickly grabbed his glasses and slipped them on, peering into the darkness. The fire had burned down to a few flames and the density of the trees allowed little in the way of starlight. Harry quickly tossed some small limbs and leaves onto the fire, building it to a useable light.

Snape was frantically backing away from something. Harry's jaw dropped. There was a little snake coiling then striking at Snape's feet, complaining loudly. "Steps on me. I'll shows you!"

A very familiar little snake.

"Harry! Call it off!" Snape ordered, barely avoiding another strike.

Laughing, Harry managed to slip into parseltongue. "Hello again."

The snake jerked to a stop and tilted it's head upwards, tongue flicking out to taste the air. Snape took the opportunity to escape to a safe distance. "Remembers you," it said.

"And I remember you. There's no need to bite him."

"Your mate stepped on me!"

Harry blinked, then blushed furiously. "He's not my mate!"

Snape saw the blush. "Harry?" he asked. Harry ignored him.

"He's not? But stills with you, musts be," the snake insisted with the authority of one who knew better and wasn't going to back down. "Smells not same, not blood kin."

Opening his mouth to protest, Harry abruptly decided to change tactics. "Okay, he's mine. Will you please quit trying to bite him?"

The snake thought for a minute then seemed to deflate. "Fines. But teaches him to watches feet."

"Deal," Harry said, relieved. The snake might have been little, but he had noticed the triangular shape of its head, indicating it was venomous.

Deciding that the conversation was at an end, the snake began to slither off.

Harry got an idea. "Wait. Could you help us?"

The snake paused then curved around to face them, giving them its attention.

"We've been trying to get through that tunnel to the other side but we don't fit. Do you know another way?"

The snake pondered that for a second. "Why leaves?"

Harry, who knew that an explanation about Hogwarts, Voldemort and the fate of the world would be beyond the snake's understanding, went with something simpler. "We need more food, there's not enough to feed both of us."

The snake readily accepted that, looking from Harry to Snape. "Yesss, very big. Needs much to eat."

"Yeah."

"No more ways out, must digs with claws!"

Harry sighed, then carefully sat down in front of the snake. He held up his hand and wiggled his fingers. "No claws."

"Oh," the snake said. Harry was sure that if it had had eyelids, the snake would have blinked blankly at him, not understanding why a hunter with hands didn't have claws.

"We'll figure it out," Harry said, disappointed. The snake hissed a soft sorry and slithered off into the darkness without another word.

Snape quietly approached him and Harry looked up, watching as the older man crossed his arms and arched an eyebrow. "Care to translate?"

Harry hoped he kept his face from showing his sudden panic. Translate all of it? Ah, no. Absolutely no. There was no power on earth that would make him tell Snape that the snake thought they were mates. Voldemort would love muggles first.

"He said that the tunnel is the only way out and we just have to keep chipping our way through. He's also sorry we don't have claws for digging."

Snape studied his face. "What else?"

Uh, oh. Time for a little misdirection. "He said you need to watch where you walk." Harry grinned. "What would the Gryffindors think of that? The Head of Slytherin nearly bitten by a snake?"

Snape's eyes narrowed. "You wouldn't dare."

"Wouldn't I?"

They fell to bickering and Harry was thankful that his misdirection worked.

_

* * *

_

Hmmm, maybe I should have named this chapter Denial.

_Replies:_

_Tonks is cool- Exactly! I've always had this idea, that as much as the trials were about testing a wizard in several areas, they were also tests designed to give the wizard a chance to learn and grow where they needed to. It's a voyage of self discovery as much as it is a test of abilities and knowledge._


End file.
